


Chasing Tail

by Kayani_Iriel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Silly, Vulpera!Shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: Shaw gets bespelled with an artifact to look like a Vulpera. Perks of the spell, he can speak the language too, and understand it. He's the perfect double agent.Until the spell can't be reversed.Now he's back in Boralus, with a problem: Vulpera aren't supposed to be there. He needs a keeper until Umbric can work out a fix, and that's going to take time. So Shaw's stuck with the charming, but disreputable captain of the Middenwake until that happens.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 57
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wabbajacked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wabbajacked/gifts), [kamidog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamidog/gifts), [monoidea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monoidea/gifts), [Laura_Maz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Maz/gifts), [Shortsighted_Owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shortsighted_Owl/gifts), [MilesHibernus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilesHibernus/gifts), [Mice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice/gifts), [JaguarMirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarMirror/gifts).



> This entire story started out with one simple comment in a discord: "Shaw's fursona would be a fox"
> 
> This prompted the discord to dissolve into chaos, as any discord should do when presented with such a marvelous idea. 
> 
> The resulting story is an amalgam of ideas from that frenzied chaos conversation, and as such, is a gift to everyone who's been taking part in Vulpera!Shaw. Thank you all! I couldn't have gotten this done without you.

Flynn Fairwind strode up the gangplank of the Wind’s Redemption, a sheaf of reports clutched in one hand. He’d been too busy with other matters to bring in the last three days of them, and he wasn’t looking forward to Spymaster Shaw’s reaction when he saw how many there were.

He could hear the straight-laced redhead’s voice now. “ _These are_ daily _reports, Fairwind. Not whenever you please._ ” Shame the man was so uptight, he was as quick with a comeback as he was good with a dagger, not to mention good-looking, and Flynn wanted to get to know him better.

“Which will never happen with you skulking behind a pack of heroes,” he muttered to himself. He moved around the sizable group, skirting the large mission table the Alliance had set up. His goal was the narrow staircase below decks, to Shaw’s tiny work office. If he got lucky, he could drop them off and face the man’s wrath another day. Maybe his charming smile would be more effective then.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. “Ah, Captain Fairwind. Just the man I wanted to see,” Commander Halford Wyrmbane said next to him. “I need to speak to you.”

“Sure thing, Commander. I’ll just nip down and drop these off for the Spymaster, then I’m all yours,” he smiled at the greying paladin. If the assassin was pissy, he had an excuse to leave, and if the other man got sidetracked on the way, well, that was one less thing standing between him and a pint at the tavern.

“Bring them with you, I’ll see they get delivered. This can’t wait.” The hand on his shoulder moved to between his shoulder blades and pushed with considerable force. For a mainlander, he was fairly strong. Flynn gave in, allowing himself to be maneuvered through the crowd, and down the stairs. Instead of stopping by Shaw’s cramped office, Wyrmbane kept going, to his own quarters.

Flynn bent as he entered the room, and as he straightened and turned to ask the older man what was going on, a small cloaked figure hunched in a chair caught his eye. He turned to get a better view as the door was shut and bolted. No luck, whoever it was shifted away, keeping their face turned.

“We have a situation, Fairwind. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think you’re the best fit for the job. You might also be the only option.”

A growl came from the cloaked figure.

“I know, Shaw. But we can’t have you loose, not looking like _that._ ”

Flynn held up a hand. “Wait, I’m missing something. Apparently quite a bit of it. Can you back up? That can’t be Shaw, he’s at least three times as tall as that. Still short, even for a mainlander, but I don’t suppose big works for all the sneaky sneaky business you have going. Come to think of it, have you ever seen a Tauren rogue? I can’t imagine they’d be very good either.”

“Fairwind!” The growl from the cloaked figure was enough to shut him up. The voice belonged to the master assassin, even if the size didn’t fit.

“That, is our situation. Now that you know just enough, I assume I have your word you’ll not speak to anyone about this. If anything gets out, I’ll know it came from you, and not only will your contract be done, you’ll be facing charges. This is serious.”

Flynn took a moment to look between the commander and the stranger. “Sure, right. I’ll keep my mouth shut. You need me for something. I don’t fancy ending up in the stocks if I screw up.”

“As if that would shut you up.” There was the spymaster’s dry humor. Flynn ignored the thrill it gave him.

“Excellent. May as well show him, Mathias.”

With a deep sigh, the cloaked figure reached out, revealing small, furred paws, which drew back the cloak. A narrow face, with a long snout, covered in white and orange fur, peered out. As the hood fell away, tall, orange ears popped up. A small Vulpera, with Shaw’s piercing green gaze, stared daggers at Flynn.

He swallowed, mouth dry. “Commander, that might sound like Shaw, but how do you know this is him? Last I checked, he wasn’t furry. Or tiny. Tinier, really.” He moved closer, peering at the older spy.

“ _Fairwind._ ” There was caution in that tone.

“Captain, I am absolutely certain this is Master Shaw,” Wyrmbane interrupted. “He’s been undercover for the last few weeks. He’s under an enchantment, and well, it’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it for me.” He didn’t think asking politely would help the situation. He circled the assassin.

“It should have worn off by now. Days ago, actually. But it hasn’t, and I’m stuck like this,” Shaw said, gesturing. “Magister Umbric said he’d come assist, but he can’t be bothered until tomorrow afternoon.”

“And where do I come in? Still puzzled on that one.”

“He can’t stay on board the ship,” Wyrmbane explained patiently. “It’s too small. His living space is in too public a location to get him in and out of. So you are going to take him to the _Middenwake_ , and he will stay with you until it’s time for Umbric to undo the spell tomorrow.”

“Why a Vulpera?” he mused, studying the man’s long, furred ears. They were the same colour as his human hair.

“We needed a double agent. The enchantment let me speak and understand their language, and I know Orcish as well. I was embedded for a week.”

“That’s why I haven’t seen you for a while,” He reached out, touching an ear.

“Knock it off, Fairwind, I’m not a cat.”

“As soft as one,” he said, before his brain engaged. “Right, bad timing. Sorry. So he’s to stay on my ship, and I’m what, to babysit him?”

“Yes,” Wyrmbane said.

“No,” Shaw said at the same time.

“Let me guess. Not only can he not go out, because Vulpera sided with the Horde, but you don’t trust him not to wander off and go do great spy business while he waits,” Flynn said, knowing he was grinning.

The glare that the furry man shot them both would have melted him, had it not been so adorable. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own work while I wait.”

“I don’t think you’d reach the desk, mate,” Flynn said. “Sure, all right, he can stay on board. I assume the _‘Wake_ being in the next berth is why I’m being volunteered?”

“Unfortunately,” the words were soft spoken, but Flynn caught them. He frowned at Shaw, and intentionally reached out to pet his head. He really was soft.

A dagger appeared out of nowhere, the hilt smacking his hand. “Hey!” he cried out, pulling his hand back.

“I’m not your pet, Fairwind.”

“Duly noted. You’re as cute as one, but your temper is just as sour as when you’re a human.”

“I do _not_ have a sour temper. I’m just not keen on being inconvenienced.”

“Gentlemen, if this is settled?” Wyrmbane interjected, looking for all the world like a parent trying to handle unruly toddlers. “I have heroes to wrangle. I trust you can get him to your ship, Captain. Spymaster, for my sake, stay there until Magister Umbric comes for you. It’s less than a day, and you’ll be back to yourself.”

Flynn nodded, and Shaw grumbled an assent. He pulled the cloak back up, covering himself completely, and the three of them left the cabin for the upper deck. Wyrmbane came out calling for the attention of the heroes, giving Flynn and Shaw a chance to slip down the gangplank and head to the next berth. Flynn wondered what his crew would think, then shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time many of them had sailed with a Vulpera.

He led Shaw into his cabin. “Make yourself at home. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. I’ll grab us dinner, and let my crew know there’s someone new on board.”

“Thanks.” The words were gruff, but Flynn didn’t take it personally.

He ducked down to the mess, where his small crew was gathered. “Hey, we have a guest on board, should be for a night. Wearing Alliance leathers, looks a little out of place. Answer his questions, otherwise leave him be.”

He got nods and agreeable words, and considered the issue settled. Most of his crew had been on the wrong side of the law more than once. If they saw Shaw, they’d assume he was an informant for the Alliance.

Taking two plates of fresh fish and root vegetables, he made his way back to his cabin. Seated at a small table was Shaw, without his cloak. Flynn noted he’d hung it up on a peg, but was still fully dressed in his uniform.

“Here you go, Spymaster.” He set the plates down on the table. “Not fancy, but fresh.”

“Beats field rations. Thank you.” The furred man dug in.

Flynn ate heartily, glad the food was still hot. He’d been worried a lecture from Shaw would have kept him from eating with the crew. Now, the situation had, but at least he wasn’t eating cold fish.

“This is delicious. We eat a lot of fish too, I assume it’s a Kul Tiran thing, but this is better than we have.” Silverware looked odd in Shaw’s paws, too large and ungainly, and Flynn could tell he was having trouble with it.

“It’s just fresh fish, root vegetables, salt, pepper, and fish oil. The usual.”

Shaw sniffed the plate. “That’s what I could smell. We don’t use it. Most of the staff isn’t fond of fish oil. I’m not fond of it. Is this a different kind?”

He shrugged. “I don’t buy the supplies. I’m sure it’s whatever’s in the market. Fish oil is fish oil.”

The spy sniffed again. “It smells wonderful.” His knife slipped out of his hands and fell to the table. “Damn it.”

“If it’s easier to eat with your hands, err, paws, you can do that,” Flynn offered. “I’ve had crew members do that in the past.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow. “You’ve sailed with Vulpera?”

“Yeah, a long time ago.”

“When you were a pirate?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes. Like I said, a long time ago. All kinds end up freebooting.”

Shaw turned back to his meal, holding the fork like a dagger. He stabbed a root vegetable. “I guess I should be less surprised.” He ate the tuber daintily, then groaned.

“What’s wrong? Fish gone off? I thought it was fresh today.”

“No, no, it’s delicious. All of it is delicious. I’m full. Already. And I’ve eaten less than half.”

Flynn looked at their plates. He’d plowed through most of his meal, having eaten all his fish, and most of the tubers. Shaw’s plate though, showed a good portion of the meal untouched. “I’m sorry, mate. I filled it for a Human, not for a Vulpera. I’ll try and keep that in mind in the morning.” He reached over and patted the assassin on the head.

The reaction was sudden, and unexpected. Shaw sat tall, snapping his teeth at Flynn’s hand. Whipping it back, Flynn stared, wide-eyed, at his dining companion.

Slapping a hand over his snout, the assassin gazed back at him. A tense moment passed.

Finally, he moved his hand away. “Captain Fairwind, I apologize for my actions. They were out of character and unnecessary, and it _will not_ happen again.”

Flynn stared at him a moment longer, then nodded his head. “Right, sure. And I’ll try not to touch you again. Old habit, sorry about that. Had a cat once.”

“I am not a pet.”

“I know that, but you’re furry, and he was furry, and well, he liked being stroked. Soft and fluffy, he was, and a great comfort on lonely nights.” Flynn shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll remember.”

Shaw’s shoulders were stiff, but he nodded. “Thank you.”

“It’s getting late, we should turn in.”

“Am I staying in here?”

“Tides, no. I wouldn’t inflict my snoring on you, at least not without a wall between us. There’s a small cabin next door, you can stay there. Tiny space, but so are you at the moment. And if you need to get up or want to move around, well, I told the crew we have a guest, and to not bother you. No one will say a thing.”

Shaw eyed him. “Did you say who or what I am?”

“No, just a guest.”

“Good. The less they know, the less they can tell.”

Flynn frowned. “I trust my crew to the death. They’ll not talk.”

Shaw stood, stretching. His ears went flat, then pointed up again. “Sometimes people talk even if they don’t want to.”

Flynn opened his mouth, and shut it. The man had a point.

“This isn’t one of those cases though, Captain. Now, my sleeping space?”


	2. Chapter 2

Mathias woke the next morning as he normally did, snapping to wakefulness all at once. He stretched, dismayed to still see paws instead of hands. Well, at least he was in a private space, and not bunking with Fairwind’s crew, or worse yet, the man himself. Ever since the Zandalari Treasury heist, he’d been unusually aware of the big man’s presence, his tendency to stand too close, and his scent, like salt and soap and whiskey.

Dressing quickly, he sent a private thank you to the designer of the disguise spell for having it adjust his armor and weapons as well. Having them made the torture of a pelt a bit more manageable, even if he did catch his fur in the corset lacings the first day. He debated knocking on the Captain’s door, but figured it was still early enough that the man was probably dead asleep, and he didn’t need the sight of him, dressed in well, whatever he slept in, running through his head all day.

Instead, he chose to brave the mess, where there was hopefully coffee. Stepping out of his cabin, he moveddownthe hall to a narrow set of stairs, and took them down. A faint whiff of what he was looking for came to him, along with the smells of last night’s dinner, and he followed his nose to the mess. He found it mostly empty, with only one person at the long, low table in the center, and a woman, presumably the ship’s cook, standing with her back to the room as she tended something on the stove. He approached her, unsure what the protocol was. On the _Redemption_ , he’d help himself to coffee and depart, but different ships had their own way of doing things.

She turned, looking him up and down. “Morning, sir. Hungry?”

“Just coffee, if you please.”

She nodded towards the pot at one end. “Over there, mugs beside it. But I think you’ll be wanting a better fit.” she fished under the counter, coming up with a smaller mug than the ones sitting out, and passed it over. He took it with a nod of thanks. “Sure I can’t get you something else? We’ve fresh bread.”

He considered. “That would be welcome, thank you.”

She turned away again, hands busy. He went and filled his mug at the pot, and took a sip. He blinked, and sipped again. It was good, better than they had onboard the _Redemption._

The cook laughed, and he glanced over. She handed him a plate with a smile. “Captain’s particular about his coffee. I’m Aubrey, by the way.”

“I see,” he said, taking the food. “Thank you, Aubrey.”

He sat at the far end of the table, away from the only other occupant. The bread was crusty and still warm, and she’d buttered it. He set into it, enjoying bites between sips of coffee. Idly, he wondered what was going on in the next berth over. He was sure his desk was covered in reports and paperwork, and he was going to be stuck working late for a week to catch up. Pity he couldn’t sneak over and get a few hours of work done…

“There you are. I figured you’d be up by now,” Fairwind said, striding into the mess. He dropped a folder down in front of Mathias, and walked towards the coffee pot. The furred spy couldn’t help but watch the ease with which he moved across the small space. He finally tore his eyes away and glanced down at the folder on the table. Then he straightened and picked it up.

It was an official SI:7 report, addressed to him. He skimmed the opening page. Two of his local agents had gone missing several days before, while on a routine information gathering mission involving someone with a previous tie to the Irontide.

“How’d you get this?” he murmured when Fairwind sat down. He kept skimming.

“Wyrmbane. He thought you might be going starkers with nothing to do until your mage friend showed up, so he told me to bring this to you. Does that man ever sleep? Or take off his helmet?”

“Sometimes,” he said distractedly. Not much to go on, just their missed check-ins, the locations they were trying to gather information in, and a note about an item. He read that portion again. A local had been rowing about the canals, and found a bracer matching standard-issue SI:7 gear at the mouth of one of the smaller drainage tunnels.

“Did you see Kelsey on the ship while you were there?”

“Nope. She’s been gone as long as you have. I think she and that bandanna guy had some mission to go do. I overheard someone mentioning he packed his _special weapons_ for the trip, but I wasn’t about to ask. That man’s as mad as the witches in Drustvar.”

“Keeshan has his moments,” Mathias conceded, sipping his coffee. “He’s a fantastic operative.”

“Even if he’s a few marbles short of a bag?”

“Even if.” He got up and poured himself more coffee, thinking all the while. He surveyed Fairwind on the trip back to the table. “Say, Fairwind, what do you say we go do something this morning?”

“Oh no,” the big man protested. “I was told to keep you on the ship.”

“You were told to babysit me. You can do that off the _Middenwake_ just as easily.”

“Wyrmbane would have my head. And don’t you think about sneaking off. I’ll tie bells to you.”

Mathias thought quickly. “I’ll pay you. Come with me. I need to investigate this, and I need to do it while I’m still small.”

He met those sea-blue eyes and held the stare, all while also holding his breath. If the Captain said no, who knew how long it would be before he could get an operative up that tunnel?

Fairwind sighed and hung his head. “Deal, but we have to be back by mid-day, so you’re in place when Umbric comes. I will not get a lecture from Wyrmbane over this.”

Mathias drained his coffee and stood. “Then let’s go. I’ll grab my cloak.”

The report had detailed the location of the drainage tunnel clearly, but it was still a walk. Mathias had traveled all over Boralus on foot, and found the city perfectly walkable in the past, but for some reason, everything seemed to take so much longer. He reasoned it was because he was roughly as tall as a goblin. Fairwind kept pace with him, appearing to almost move in slow motion. It grated on his nerves, but he was also glad he didn’t have to run to keep up with the much taller man. That would have been degrading, and being a Vulpera in Alliance territory was bad enough.

They finally made it to the tunnel, and Mathias peered over the edge. It wasn’t a far drop, and he figured Fairwind could lower his cloak down for him to hold on to to climb up the wall on the way back.

“I shouldn’t be long. Hold on to this, and hang it over the side when I come back. I’ll need to use it like a rope.” He shrugged out of the cloak and handed it off, then was over the side before the Kul Tiran could protest. There were large rocks for him to climb on to get to the tunnel, and then he was inside.

He had to duck, nearly crawling on all fours to get in, but he fit. Only Kelsey would have had a better time of it. He knew even on his belly, it would have been a nightmare of an experience as a human. He moved up the tunnel, seeing no branching corridors, and breathed a small sigh of relief. At least some things were on his side.

He noted a couple openings overhead, covered by grates, and saw they were open spots in what he assumed was the market above. People passed overhead, never stopping to glance down through the grate.

He crawled on, and the noise of the market faded. The tunnel was dark, but it wasn’t fully black, or at least his eyes could make out scant shapes in the dim light. It was enough to keep him from colliding with the end of the tunnel when he got there. Above him, he saw another grate, but this appeared to be in the basement of a house. He peered up into the gloom, trying to discern what he could of it. He shifted, and his hand came down on something pliable.

He stared down, seeing a dark lump in the darkness. “Don’t be a dead rat,” he muttered, fingers closing around it. He felt his shoulders relax when it didn’t squish, and he recognized the shape. He turned around, crawling back towards the better lit outdoor grates, so he could take a look. Once there, he was able to examine the bracer he’d picked out of the muck. It was dark blue, well made, and definitely something one of his agents would have been wearing. Mathias suspected its mate was sitting on the _Wind’s Redemption_.

“Well, it seems I need to pay a visit to that house,” he murmured, and began heading to the tunnel exit.

He made good time despite the bracer in one hand, and popped out of the end after checking to make sure no nosy fishermen were in the area.

“Fairwind, I’m back,” he called up quietly, hoping the man was nearby.

His cloak dropped down, and Mathias latched on to it, preparing to scale the wall. Instead, he found himself being lifted up like a bucket in a well. Fairwind swung him over and set him on the pavement, then swirled the cape around him, drawing it up over Mathias’s pointed ears.

“Find what you needed, mate?”

“I did. I need more information.”

The big man made a face at him. “Well, it needs to wait. You smell awful.”

Mathias made an impatient gesture, then pulled his arm back into the cloak. “I need answers, Fairwind. And I need them now.”

Fairwind sighed. “Well, you won’t be getting them. People will smell you coming. What do you need to know?”

“The tunnel below us dead ends under a house, just past the market. I need to know who owns the house, and if they’re currently living there.”

“That’s it?” The big man raised an eyebrow. “I can have that in a few. Come on, I know an alley you can wait in while I find out.”

They skirted the market, and Mathias encountered only a couple sour faces as he walked past people on the way to the alley his escort knew of. He slipped into the shadows, sitting on a decrepit crate, and prepared to wait. No matter how much the captain claimed it would be quick, he was certain it wouldn’t be.

The alley was quiet and deserted, and with a dead end, he only had the opening to observe, which helped. He surveyed the dead end thoroughly, ensuring no one was going to surprise him from that end, before relaxing his posture slightly. Still alert, but no longer expecting an immediate threat, he turned his attention to the alley opening, scanning over the crate to his side, looking for anyone who might come in.

His mind wanted to wander, to thoughts of lunch and fish oil, of all things. He surmised his Vulpera form burned energy faster than he did as a human, and that bread for breakfast hadn’t been a wise choice. He was considering asking Flynn to pick up a bite to eat before returning, when his cloak hood was drawn back. “Oh look, a pretty foxy!”

He started, his hands full of daggers before he realized the person speaking was a child. He’d been on alert for adults, not pint sized humans. Freezing, he stared at a wide-eyed girl of perhaps eight years. Behind her stood more children, all dressed in plain, worn clothing, well patched.

“I’m sorry, foxy, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the girl said, reaching out to touch Mathias’s head. “I just wanted to pet you. You’re so pretty, and your owner dressed you up so nice. You’re like the dolls I’ve seen in Upton Borough, when my mum takes me up there as a treat.”

Mathias sheathed his daggers, still wary. The kids seemed benign, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down. Again.

The girl looked him over, and wrinkled her nose. “Oh foxy, your master is going to be so mad. You went and got all dirty! You’re gonna have to have a bath! I bet your owner will use bubbles and everything!”

The kids behind her laughed, although it wasn’t unkind. Mathias tried a smile, to look harmless.

The laughing stopped.

He stopped trying to smile.

The girl patted his head again, then stroked his ears. “You’re so soft, foxy. Your owner must love to brush your fur.”

A boy came up beside the girl, and reached out tentatively. He touched the side of Mathias’s head gently. “You’re right, Gertie, he is soft.”

“He’s a girl!” Gertie replied hotly.

“No he’s not! He’s not wearing a dress!”

“I say foxy is a girl! Look!” Gertie pulled a ribbon out of her pocket. Swiftly, she gathered the fur on the top of Mathias’s head, and tied the ribbon there. “See? She has a bow, so she’s a girl! Maybe her master likes her in trousers instead of skirts!”

The boy stepped back, defeated. “I still say he’s a boy.”

Mathias sat, stunned at Gertie’s ferocity. He reached up, feeling for the ribbon. Gertie smacked his hand away.

“No you don’t Miss. You look pretty with the bow. Here, I’ll do another one.” Out came another ribbon, this one a dirty brown. Gertie tied it to a tuft under his chin. “That’s better.”

“What are you doing to my friend?” Fairwind’s bellow down the alley couldn’t have come at a better time for Mathias. He snapped his head around, locking eyes with the big man. He wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw humor in those sea-blue eyes for a moment. He was pretty sure the captain was suppressing a smile.

“We were meeting your pet, Mister,” Gertie said, not giving an inch. “She’s pretty.”

“I’m not so sure he appreciates you putting bows on him, young lady,” Flynn said, but less sternly. He turned to Mathias. “Come here.”

Mathias wasted no time, getting up and running to the man. When the captain patted his shoulder, the spy didn’t think, but leaped, using his tail as a rudder, and climbed up his side, settling on his back, holding tight with one arm. The other sought the ribbons and he pulled them free, along with some fur. He held them out, and let Fairwind take them.

“Here, take your pretties back, and leave my friend be. We have places to be.”

Gertie took the ribbons, and the kids ran out of the alley without a backwards glance.

“Oh Shaw, what did you get yourself into while I was gone? It couldn’t have been ten minutes?” Flynn’s voice held so much laughter.

“I was watching for adults, not kids,” he admitted. Well, at least his fur hid the blush that was no doubt staining him.

The Kul Tiran did laugh then, quietly, but for a long time. “Well, cover up and let’s get back to the _‘Wake_. You need to bathe.”

Mathias pulled his hood up, and made sure he was covered by his cloak. He wasn’t about to climb down, and it seemed like the captain wasn’t going to make him. He held on, making sure not to dig his claws in, and rested his head on a broad shoulder. He let his guard down, and relaxed, hoping he wouldn’t end up dumped in the harbor. It was turning into one of those days.

“We’re here,” Fairwind’s voice sounded in his ear, quiet but firm. “Let’s get you that bath. Your mage friend will run for Stormwind if he has to smell you, and I’ll be with him.”

Mathias climbed off the big man carefully, setting his feet firmly on the deck of the ship. He drew his cloak tighter around him, and stared up at the captain. “I can go back to my apartments and shower.” He grimaced. “Well, I can try.”

“I’ll get Aubrey to heat water, you can bathe in my cabin.”

Once in the room, Mathias stood to one side while Flynn carried in a tub. “Don’t use this much, it’s too small for me, but it’ll be like a pool for you. I’ve already talked to Aubrey, she’ll have water shortly. I don’t have anything you can change into, but you can wear this,” Flynn tossed a shirt over a chair, “While you sort out your armor. I don’t suppose you have another set.”

“No, I burned the things I wore while under cover. They… weren’t salvageable.”

Flynn shook his head. “Good thing I don’t have to know what went down, mate.”

As soon as the water was in the tub, and towels were set out, Fairwind left him in peace, and Mathias wasted no time in stripping down. The idea of getting the muck off him sounded heavenly, and he couldn’t wait for a proper bath.

The reality of it was different. The moment he sank into the warm water, he nearly recoiled. The feel of it soaking his pelt and touching his skin was anything but pleasant, and he regretted sitting down. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the soap and washed as quickly as he could. “Of course, of all things Vulpera don’t do, it’s take a relaxing bath,” he grumbled, as he rinsed, and re-rinsed, trying to get all the soap out.

Finally, he had the soap and the muck out, and stood to dry off. Fairwind had left a couple towels for him, and he gratefully took one, and started drying off. Before he got very far, the towel was soaked, and his head was the only thing even remotely dry. Sighing, he grabbed the next towel, and kept working. He didn’t make it very far.

Wringing as much water out of his pelt as he could, he dried down from sopping to simply wet. He went to reach for the spare shirt, but a knock at the cabin’s door stopped him.

“Shaw, mate, just checking in. You didn’t drown yourself, did you? Because Wyrmbane would have my head if you did.”

“I’m not dead, Fairwind, keep your shirt on. Do you have another towel?”

“Towel? Yeah, got several. Check the cupboard by the foot of the bed. Why? Oh! You’re furry.”

“...Yeah.” Mathias went over, opening the cupboard. He found the towels, and began drying himself off. It took most of them to get him dry enough to slip into the huge shirt left for him. Even as a human, the shirt would have hung well past his thighs, and would have needed the sleeves rolled up. As a Vulpera? He felt like Gertie playing dress-up.

He went to the door, opening it to see if Flynn was there. The corridor was empty, but right as he went to shut the door, the captain appeared, carrying two plates of food. “I thought you could use a bite to eat.”

“Thanks,” Mathias said, stepping back. “I’m sorry I depleted your towel supply.”

The big man laughed. “Don’t worry about it. We’re in port, laundry’s easy to send out. And at least you didn’t leave my cabin smelling like wet dog. That’s the worst. I knew a ship that kept a dog, terrible idea. Unlike a cat, they don’t like to do it in boxes. And well, that ship wasn’t big on hygiene anyway. You never wanted to sail downwind of her.”

Mathias shuddered, imagining. “That’s… disgusting.”

“Sure is. So, more fish for lunch.”

They ate in silence, Mathias devouring his food in a hurry. It was delicious, and he was extremely hungry. Despite the unpleasantness of the bath, being clean and well-fed did help improve his mood.

“You look a little rumpled, mate. Want to borrow a brush?”

He sighed. “Sure, although I’m not sure I can reach everywhere.”

The captain looked pensive. “Well, if you can handle it, I could always help you with the hard to reach spots. I used to brush my cat all the time, and he loved it.”

“Flynn, I am not a cat.”

“I know, I know, but the idea is the same. Fur needs to be brushed, or it’ll mat. And if Umbric’s not able to turn your back, those mats will rub in your armor, and itch, or worse, hurt. You’re a bear on the worst of days, I don’t want to imagine what it’s like if you’re being bothered.”

He had a point. “Very well,” Mathias grudgingly said. “But don’t enjoy it too much.”

The smile on the big man’s face made his heart skip a beat. Mathias accepted Flynn was handsome, but he was even more so when he smiled. Mathias unbuttoned the too-large shirt, and slipped it down. “You can start with my back.”

Flynn retrieved a hairbrush and carefully began brushing. Mathias closed his eyes, trying not to feel awkward about being nearly naked around the Kul Tiran. The brush strokes were gentle, in the direction his fur grew, and didn’t pull. It wasn’t long before he caught himself nodding, sleep threatening to overtake him.

The captain slipped his arms out of the shirt and brushed each one gently, then put him back into the enormous garment. He opened his eyes briefly, and made eye contact with the man. “You look exhausted, just rest, mate.”

He nodded, and closed his eyes again. The brush kept moving, over his head, along the bushy tail, and down his legs. The strokes were soothing, and he was too tired to be embarrassed. He put his head down on the table and drifted.

And woke when he was lifted in the air. “Fairwind! Put me down!”

“Relax, Shaw. Umbric won’t be here for a while, you need rest. Take a nap, I’ll tend to your armor.” Fairwind set Mathias on his own bed, and covered him with a quilt. Mathias tried to sit up, to get out of bed, but was held down by one oversized hand. “You’re over tired, and you’ve had a rough spell. Take a couple hours.”

He met the sea-blue gaze again, and saw concern there. With a sigh, he stopped fighting. “Fine, but if you screw up my armor, Fairwind, I will feed you to Sawtooth next time he comes around.”

That earned him a chuckle. “Fair enough, mate. Now, rest while I clean up your armor.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go up days ago, but I had a 4 day power outage, which was not a lot of fun.

Flynn knew he needed to wake the spymaster, but was loath to do so. He’d been sitting idle for the better part of a half hour, trying not to laugh because when Shaw had shifted earlier, a tiny, wheezing snore came from him. He really did remind Flynn of Stewart, his long-gone cat. But it wasn’t their similarities that made him want to curl up on the bed with the currently foxish assassin. He’d been drawn to the man since the first meeting, despite being brushed off constantly, and wouldn’t have minded a chance to cuddle with him, even if that meant fur in his mouth. As he didn’t want a dagger to the kidney, he did the next best thing: watch him sleep.

Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he sighed loudly, hoping it would wake him. No luck. So, he stood, pushing the chair back, and watched an ear twitch. That was something. He walked towards the bed, making much more noise than he would ever consider acceptable, and was rewarded with one brilliant green eye opening as he reached out a hand to touch the other man’s shoulder.

“I’m awake, Fairwind,” Shaw said, then yawned. His tongue flashed out, bright pink, and he sat up. The shirt slipped down one shoulder, revealing copper fur. Flynn almost touched it, but stopped himself.

“Right, I’ll just meet you on deck. Umbric should be on the _Wind’s Redemption_ soon, we should head over. Don’t want to keep your mage friend waiting, right?”

“Right. I’m ready to be myself again.”

“You’re still yourself, mate. You’re just a furrier, cuter version.”

“I am not cute.”

“No, you’re right.” He waited a moment, until Shaw’s face showed satisfaction. “You’re adorable.”

He ducked out of the room, shutting the door just in time to stop the boot thrown at the door. He could hear muttered curses over his laughter all the way on to the deck.

Shaw didn’t take long, and within minutes they were walking up the gangplank of the Alliance vessel. Right away there was trouble, as they were stopped by King Genn Greymane before they set foot on deck. The typically stoic man was in full worgen form, furry and bare-chested, with claws out. Flynn paused, giving him a good look.

“Not today Fairwind, and whoever this is. We’re in the middle of an incident.”

“Understood, your highness,” Flynn said politely. “But we’re supposed to meet Magister Umbric here.”

“Don’t care if you’re supposed to be meeting King Wrynn himself, you’re not getting on the ship.”

Shaw pushed back his cloak a bit, revealing his muzzle and eyes. “King Greymane, Captain Fairwind is here on request of myself and Commander Wyrmbane. I need to see Umbric. There’s been… a mishap.”

“Who the hell are you?” Greymane demanded, nostrils flaring.

Flynn reached out a hand to pull other man behind him, but was sidestepped. “Master Mathias Shaw, your majesty.”

The worgen snorted. “And I’m Lo’gosh.”

Flynn sized up the pair. The spymaster, even in human form, was a slight man, and while not short, was shorter than Greymane in human form. As a Worgen? He was dwarfed. Now, as a Vulpera, he was barely up to the older man’s thighs. _Great place for a… mind out of the canal, Fairwind_ , he thought to himself, and masked a smile with a hand.

Shaw drew himself up as tall as he could. “King Greymane, I’ll be happy to explain the circumstances to you, but not out in the open. I’m sure you received a copy of the mission briefing explaining where I’ve been for the past fortnight.”

“Aye, but nothing about this. You can’t be Shaw. Shaw’s _human_.”

“Not at the moment,” Flynn said, unable to stop himself. That earned him glares from both furry men.

“Shut up, Fairwind,” Shaw growled. To Greymane, he said, “Scent me. You’ve been around me, you know my scent.”

He received a dubious look, but after a moment, the Worgen leaned way, way down, and sniffed the spy. His eyes widened, almost comically, and he straightened. Stepping back, he said, “My apologies, Spymaster. It’s been a trying morning. Please, come aboard.” He turned his back on Flynn and walked with Shaw towards the bow of the ship. Flynn shrugged, and stepped on board, staying back near the gangplank in case Greymane remembered he was there.

Within minutes, a shimmering void portal appeared, all dark ovals and purple lights, and a slim void elf with blue hair came through. Flynn had only met Magister Umbric once, when they raided the Zandalari Treasury, and everyone was all business at the time. Shaw hurried over to the elf, offering a paw, which the mage took and shook delicately.

“Get over here, Fairwind,” the spymaster called.

He crossed the deck, stopping behind his furry charge. “Hello mate, nice to see you again,” he said, extending a hand. He was surprised when the handshake was returned.

“Thank you for aiding the Spymaster until I could get here, Captain. I had experiments that could not be left unattended. I would resort to more small talk, but I assume you’re more than ready to have this reversed, Master Shaw?”

“You have no idea,” came the grumble.

Umbric’s lips twitched. “Very well. I will port us to a location to work, where we won’t disturb anyone while I lift the spell. One moment.”

He raised his hands, chanting in an unknown tongue that had the hair on the back of Flynn’s neck rising. Instinctively, he set a hand on Shaw, pulling him closer and earning him a snarl for his troubles. He let go as a portal shimmered into being.

“Follow me, gentlemen,” Umbric said, stepping through.

After a gesture from Shaw, Flynn went next, feeling a small wave of disorientation sweep over him as he crossed the threshold. He stepped out into a part of Kul Tiras he’d not seen before, and he turned in a circle, taking in the view. Boralus was barely visible in the distance. All he could see around him was snow, rocks, a few trees, and one lonely mountain goat, which seemed nonplussed by their arrival.

“This should be safe enough,” the void elf said, hands on his hips. “We’ll begin with the most simple of options: a high-level dispel.”

“The mage on duty when I got back tried those.” Shaw crossed his arms.

Umbric raised one long eyebrow. “Simple dispels, or the higher-level ones?”

A frown flickered on his face. “I don’t know. Dispels of some kind. I don’t deal in magic, and you can see why,” he snapped.

“I suspect they weren’t the advanced ones. Hold still, I’ll try more a more complex one. It won’t hurt, unless you move too much.” Umbric raised his hands, pale blue light spilling from his fingertips. Flynn stepped back, giving him space to work. The light enveloped the furry man like a larger cloak, shrouding him from view. For almost a minute he was hidden, and then it faded.

No change.

“Well, it’s resistant to dispells. Let’s try an anti-magic shield,” Umbric said, undaunted. He raised his hands again, and chanted, calling up a dome of shimmering purple energy. Once it solidified, he beckoned to them to step inside. “Come in, both of you. If this doesn’t work, I want to try something different.”

Flynn hesitantly stepped through the barrier, expecting it to yield like syrup. Instead, it felt more like a soap bubble, but didn’t pop as he’d expect. The light was tinted softly violet under the shield, casting the spy’s white fur highlights in a pale light.

“Well, crossing the threshold should have worked. I’ll try a dispel from within, just in case. Stay put, Captain.” Umbric repeated the same procedure he had before, bathing Shaw in blue light for a long moment. It faded with no effect.

“I didn’t expect that to work, but I wanted to be thorough. All right men, it’s time for combat.”

“Combat? You want me to fight him?” Flynn couldn’t help speaking up. “But he’s tiny!”

“I could kill you unarmed, Fairwind.” Shaw looked smug. “But I haven’t had a proper workout since I returned from my mission. Let’s go.”

“Before you start beating on each other,” Umbric interjected, “please keep it civil. There’s no need to draw blood, or cause harm. Perhaps some simple sparring. It’s possible while in this shield a good blow will reset the enchantment.”

Mathias began stretching, eyeing Flynn. “Pity we can’t go full combat.”

Flynn pulled off his greatcoat and cracked his neck. “You worry me, mate. I really don’t want to risk hurting you. I also like my throat, and want to keep it intact. And my bits. You’ll keep Little Flynn where he is, right?”

A feral grin was all he got in response. He gulped.

“Begin when ready. This shouldn’t take much. Either it will work with a good solid blow, or it won’t.”

Flynn drew his cutlasses, and took up a guarded stance. He didn’t like the look of the daggers in Shaw’s hands. They were simple, not as ornate as he’d expect the head of SI:7 to carry. But then again, Shaw was a function over form sort of guy.

“Enough stalling, Fairwind, I can smell your fear,” Shaw said, matter-of-factly. “Either attack or I will.”

Flynn lunged, trying to aim low. It wasn’t easy. The other man sidestepped him easily, slapping him on the ass with the flat of his blade. Flynn yelped and spun on the ball of his foot, striking out. He caught only air.

“I thought you were faster than that,” Shaw taunted.

“And I thought we were fighting, not talking,” Flynn retorted, lunging again. This time he smacked the other man on the side with his cutlass.

“Finally, I thought you’d never hit me. I’m trying to see how you fight, Fairwind. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t waste my breath, but you’re not proving to be much of a challenge.” Shaw shadowstepped, disappearing from view. Flynn pivoted, but was too slow to block the blade coming at the back of his knee. It caused him to buckle and sit down hard.

“You bastard,” he growled, getting up in a swift motion. He threw a grappling hook to one side of Shaw, pulling himself over quicker than the other man could react, and body checked him out of the anti-magic shield.

“Enough!” Umbric called. He vanished the dome. “That last blow should have been enough. I’m all but out of ideas at the moment. Perhaps outside the shield would do it? I don’t want you slamming into him again, Captain, I’m worried a man of your size might actually flatten him in that form. No, Spymaster, don’t frown, it’s the truth. Vulpera are resilient, but a Kul Tiran is a force once they get going.”

Flynn stood with his hands on his knees, catching his breath, while Umbric wandered around the area. He picked up a branch and ventured to a snowbank. Prodding the snow, he nodded. “This should work. Captain, how far can you throw?”

“Depends on what you need me to throw. A beer bottle? A ways. A Tauren? Not very.”

“A Vulpera?”

Flynn goggled at the mage. “You’re kidding, right mate?”

“I am not. The snowbank is soft.”

“No. Not a chance. I am not a gnome to be punted. I refuse,” Shaw stood with his arms crossed across his chest. “I might have taunted the brute to get a rise out of him, but being thrown is a kind of degrading I _will not_ to participate in.”

“Brute? I’m a brute?” Flynn knew he was flushing red.

“I could call you incompetent too, based on your fighting.” Shaw’s face was stony.

“Gentlemen, now is not the time for insults. I want to exhaust every option.”

“Well, I’ll assist you, Magister,” Flynn said. In a swift motion, he seized the furry spymaster and heaved him, sending him head-first into the snowbank. Shaw disappeared almost fully, only his bushy tail sticking out indicating he was there.

“Well, while that didn’t work, it was quite humorous,” Umbric said dryly. “I suppose I’ll have to research this further. I suspect time dilation is a partial cause of the length of the enchantment. Master Shaw, did you use portals on this mission?”

A mumbled voice came from the snow.

“What was that?”

Flynn went over and yanked the furred man out by his cloak.

“I said, yes we used portals. I took several to get in and out of where I needed to be.” Shaw began brushing copious amounts of snow off his leathers.

“My theory of time dilation seems more and more likely.” Umbric looked pleased.

“Time what now?” Flynn looked between the two men.

“It’s science, Captain. I’d start explaining it, but we’d be here all day. Suffice it to say, it involves traveling through the Twisting Nether to get where you’re going, and enough of it will cause timed enchantments to lose cohesiveness.”

“But I came back the same way I went in,” the spy protested.

“Simply reversing the order of the portals won’t work to fix it either, sometimes all that works is merely more time. I’ll keep looking, but I suspect that at this point, all you can do is wait, Master Shaw. I don’t think it will be much longer, a week at most.”

“A week?” Flynn and Shaw said in unison.

“Probably less,” Umbric hedged. “Now, let me get you back to the _Wind’s_ _Redemption_. My experiments need tending, and I need to make sure I haven’t missed anything in trying to set you to rights.”

Back on the Alliance vessel, Fairwind kept out of the way while Shaw and Umbric updated Wyrmbane and Greymane. The paladin shot Flynn a look, which he interpreted to mean “you’re still on babysitting duty” so he nodded and shrugged. This seemed to be enough for the commander, who went back to ignoring him.

Finally, Shaw came over, and without a word, they departed for the _Middenwake_. Once on board, Flynn went down to grab dinner, hoping that Shaw would wisely choose to stay in one of the cabins.

Luck was with him, and as he entered, he found the furred man taking off his pauldrons and drying them as best he could with a towel. Flynn set the plates down and went over to a small wood-burning stove.

“Let me start a fire, mate. It’ll help your things dry faster. I didn’t expect that snow to be so wet, or I wouldn’t have tossed you so hard. Sorry about that.”

“It’s no matter,” the spy sighed. “Umbric wasn’t going to let it go. It was be thrown, or still be up there. It stuck everywhere, and I forgot how cold leather can get when it’s wet.”

Once the fire was going, Flynn dug in his cupboard for a woolen shirt. “Here, this’ll help. I imagine you’re half frozen.”

He watched Shaw’s hands take the garment carefully, hands working clumsily. “Thanks, Flynn.”

“I’ll see if there’s coffee, that’ll help warm you up,” he said, to give the man privacy. He ducked out, heading down to the mess again. The coffee was hot, although old and stale, but he figured that the other man wouldn’t care this late in the day. He rummaged around and found mugs, filled them, and returned to the cabin. Shaw was wrapped up in the shirt, with the collar turned up, and curled up on a chair, looking miserable. He handed a mug over.

“Here you go. That should thaw you out.”

The copper fox took the cup with a nod of thanks, wrapping both paws around it. Flynn sat in the other seat, and began eating. The cold didn’t bother him, although his feet were a bit chilly.

Eventually his dining companion put down the mug and picked up a fork. He ate slowly, but steadily, through the meal.

“You okay, mate?”  
“Of course. Who wouldn’t be fine being trapped in a body that’s not theirs, being made fun of for their small stature, and mistaken for the enemy in their home territory?”

Oof. Well, he’d had that one coming.

“Fair enough. I deserved that.”

“And you dumped me in a damned snowbank.”

“You said it didn’t matter,” he protested.

“I lied!”

Flynn stared at the spy, taking in the flashing eyes, the heavy breathing, the slightly open mouth revealing sharp teeth and the pink tongue. _He’s so cute when he’s angry._ He resisted telling him that. “I’m sorry, Mathias,” he began, wondering if it was a mistake to use the man’s first name. “I didn’t mean to fling you like I did. I was tired and pissed off, and you didn’t deserve it.”

They locked gazes for a few more heartbeats, and the other man looked away. “It’s fine. I’m out of sorts. Have you any idea how difficult this is? Even eating with a human sized fork is a pain in the ass. I keep dropping the damn thing.” The fork fell out of his hand as if to emphasize the point.

“Everything’s in pieces, use your hands. I won’t judge. You’re cold, tired, and madder than a wet fox.” He chuckled.

“ _Flynn_.”

“I jest mate, I jest. But seriously, eat up however it works best, and get some rest. You’ll do better with a full belly and a sound night’s sleep.” A thought occurred to him. “Well, shit. You can’t sleep in the other cabin.”

“Why not?” Shaw picked up a vegetable with his fingers, eating daintily. He his control was better by hand than with the fork.

“No heat in there, room’s too small. And I won’t have you bunking with the crew. I guess you’re trading rooms with me tonight. I’ll stoke the stove, it’ll stay warm in here all night for you, and dry your armor.”

“Nonsense. This is your cabin. I can’t put you out. What if someone needs you?”

“I’ll tell them to go next door. It’s not a problem, I can sleep anywhere.” Flynn sipped his coffee, grimacing at the taste.

“Flynn, I’ll not put you out of your cabin. I can sleep on the floor in here.”

“Floor’s too cold. You’d be a furry ice pop by morning.”

“Then I’ll sleep in a chair. I’ve done it before.” The set of Shaw’s muzzle had Flynn grinning. He could translate the expression to the man’s human face.

“And have you grumpier than usual? No thanks. I’d rather sleep with Wyrmbane.”

That got a nearly comical expression of surprise from the other man. His eyes shifted, and he looked away. Flynn watched him pick at his food, eating in silence for a few bites. He’d struck a nerve. A thought occurred to him, but he figured there’d be no chance of it happening.

“Well, you could, and this is a dumb idea, and you’re free to tell me how stupid I’m being-”

“Most of your ideas are stupid, Fairwind.”

“Well, then you’re used to me being me. So hear me out. The bed’s large, it was the one good thing about this ship when I won her. There’s plenty of room, especially since you’re so small.”

“Stop reminding me of how tiny I am.”

“So anyway,” he said, forging on and ignoring Mathias, “You could share the bed with me. I’ve been told I give off a lot of heat. So between the stove and me, you’d sleep warm. And there’s enough space you don’t have to be too close to me. I’d leave you alone, so you wouldn’t have to worry. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.”

The other man snorted. “You haven’t the faintest idea how to be a gentleman.”

“I do too!” He’d keep his hands, and thoughts, to himself. Good enough. The thought of Mathias Shaw in his bed was already doing things to him. He pushed it aside. “Will that work?”

They shared a look. The assassin looked away, almost shyly. “That’ll do,” he said gruffly. “I haven’t shared a bed with someone in a long while, so I don’t know if I snore, or thrash about. If I do, I apologize in advance.”

Flynn grinned. “It’s fine, mate. I’m a heavy sleeper when we’re not at sea. You could probably tap dance on me and I wouldn’t notice.” He got up and stoked the stove. “I’ll take the dishes down, and we’ll call it a night, unless you’d like to stay up? I was up early.”

He caught the other man’s nod. “I’d like to warm up and sleep. I’ve been operating under less-than-ideal conditions these past weeks, and it’s catching up to me.”

Flynn had the dishes to the mess and was back to the cabin in a hurry, hanging his greatcoat on a peg on the wall. He saw Mathias had laid out his armor near the stove, arranging it so it would dry but not scorch. The furred man was perched on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the sleeve of the shirt Flynn had loaned him the night before. Flynn assumed he’d changed while he was gone, and privately agreed the wool shirt would be uncomfortable sleep in.

“Inside or out?” He asked, stripping down in a corner.

“Inside, I’m likely to stab any of your crew if they come in if I’m on the outside.”

“That would be very bad,” Flynn said neutrally. He heard Mathias shuffle and settle in, and then he climbed into bed, pulling the covers up. He usually slept nude, but left his smallclothes on in this case. He’d considered a shirt, but knew he’d only get twisted up in it.

He glanced over to where the other man lay, curled on his side, facing the wall, as small as he could make himself. The urge to touch him was strong, but Flynn resisted. “Relax Mathias, I won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “I’ll leave you as much space as I can, and not bother you. I’m just here to thaw you out.”

He watched the hunched shoulders drop a fraction. “Thanks, Flynn. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, mate.” He lay there, staring at the ceiling, watching the light from the stove flicker gently, until he heard Mathias’s breath even out. He waited a while longer, then turned, seeing the furred man’s shoulders had relaxed, and he seemed deeply asleep.

Giving into the urge, he reached out and gently touched Mathias’s shoulder. The spy grumbled, but did not wake. After a moment, he rolled flat on his back, Flynn’s hand sliding with him, over his shoulder and across his chest. Flynn swore his heart skipped a beat. He pulled his hand back reluctantly, and closed his eyes, trying to sleep.

A cool, furry body pressed up against him. “Warm,” Mathias murmured. Flynn blew out a breath. Apparently luck was on his side tonight, but he wasn’t sure which kind. He shifted, turning towards the other man, and pulled him close, wrapping him in his arms.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he said, as the adorable fox snuggled closer.


	4. Chapter 4

Mathias didn’t want to wake; he was curled up somewhere warm and soft, with a comforting weight on his back. His brain, usually one to snap awake all at once, slowly registered things around him: the gentle rock indicating he was onboard a ship, the footfalls of sailors in the corridor telling him it was daytime, and the steady breathing of the bed underneath him.

His brain stuttered on the last piece of information. He cracked an eye. A swallow, dark blue and flat, stared back at him from an expanse of hairy chest. At the same moment he realized he was on top of Flynn, the weight on his back moved, and the captain’s hands stroked down him from neck to lower back. Mathias dimly registered the touch as familiar and guessed it had been going on for a while.

Forcing himself to go limp, in case he tensed up and gave away that he was awake, he shut his eye and steadied his breathing. His brain still refused to jump into action. Instead, it seemed lulled by Flynn’s gentle touch. He took a brief inventory, and realized his arms were wrapped around the big man’s neck, and he was cuddled in under his chin. Strangely, the position felt… right.

For the first time in a long while, Mathias had no idea what to do. If he pretended to wake, things would be awkward, and he was stuck with Flynn for the foreseeable future. He could always pretend to wake angry, but the way he was clinging to the big man put him in a bad position to play the scene that way. His best bet, it seemed, was to stay where he was and hope the situation resolved itself in a less embarrassing way.

He told himself it wasn’t at all related to the fact that Flynn was soft and smelled good and his touches were welcomed. It couldn’t be that. It was merely the embarrassment of being caught in a semi-intimate moment with a man that he could admit was attractive, but that he had no interest in.

Flynn’s hands traced his sides, stroking with his fur, relaxing him further. Mathias couldn’t help but let out a little sigh, settling his head in closer. The captain let out a breathy chuckle, and one hand moved up the spy’s back, to a shoulder blade, which he started massaging gently. Strong fingers worked on a knot, one that Mathias didn’t know he’d had. He tensed under the pain, and Flynn whispered gentle soothing noises into his ear. After some moments, the pain lessened, and he relaxed a little, earning a murmur of praise.

They continued on like that for longer than Mathias would have thought. Flynn would alternate hands, one stroking him, the other seeking out a tight muscle and working the strain out of it. Mathias drifted, content to lie on him and turn into a furry puddle of contentment.

Finally, he was lifted slightly, and Flynn slid out from under him. He was placed on the mattress and covered with the quilt, and, if he didn’t miss his guess, the big man dropped a kiss on his head. Mathias cracked an eye again, watching Flynn move silently around the cabin as he dressed. He took in the tattoos covering the sailor: matched swallows on his chest, a kraken on his bicep, and a ship across his back, among others. His fingers itched to trace the lines.

When Flynn turned around to survey the cabin, Mathias shut his eye and returned to feigning sleep. The door opened and closed softly, not loud enough to wake him up. He contemplated getting up and dressing, but the bed was still warm and dressing would give away he was awake for whatever had just happened. He burrowed down into the quilt and drifted instead.

A knock at the door sometime later startled him out of his doze.

“Master Shaw, are you decent?” Flynn called through the door. “I have breakfast.”

“I’m up,” he replied, realizing too late he hadn’t answered the question. He sat up and saw the enormous shirt he’d worn to bed had slipped off. Flynn had been touching him directly on his pelt. He tugged it up, covering himself as the door opened.

Flynn balanced a tray in one hand as he pushed at the door with the other. “Lots of coffee, and a hearty breakfast. You burn a lot of fuel, mate. Oh, you’re not dressed. I’ll leave this here and take mine elsewhere.”

“It’s fine, just turn your back,” he said brusquely. Once he had privacy, he dressed, pulling on his now-dry leathers, and felt like he’d regained a sense of control. The armor was stiff, but it would loosen as he moved, and he felt more nimble than usual. He settled himself at the table, making enough noise that Flynn turned and also sat down.

“I never told you what I discovered yesterday,” Flynn said after a couple bites of breakfast. “Between the kids and Umbric, I got distracted.”

Shaw gestured with his fork, dropping it. “Dammit. Well, now’s as good a time as any, tell me.”

“So the bloke that owns the place only uses it during the summer. It should be closed up now since we’re well into autumn, but I noticed signs that people have been in and out. Fresh cart tracks by the gate, buckets left out, things like that. Someone’s been there in the past couple weeks, although I’m not sure if they’re still there.”

Mathias caught himself setting up straighter. “So if my agents were there, they’ve only recently been moved. I didn’t think anyone was in the basement when I was in the tunnel. We need to go check that out as soon as possible.”

“Shaw, you’re supposed to stay hidden, remember? This is one someone else can investigate. Isn’t this why you have all these rogue minions?”

He waved the Kul Tiran off. “No, these are my agents. I need to see this for myself.. Besides, with Kelsey gone, I’m the smallest agent available, and the least likely to be seen. Plus, I have decades of experience on most of my operatives.”

Flynn frowned. “How old are you, mate? You can’t be that much older than me.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is I get in.”

“The house is walled off. Gate’s sturdy, even if you can see through it. You can’t just slip over to the kitchen door.”

Shaw sipped his coffee and scoffed. “As if a wall would stop me. Worst case, you can give me a leg up. You’ve already pointed out, several times, that I’m tiny.”

That got a shrug out of the other man. “Fair enough. If Wyrmbane finds out, this is all on you. I’m not losing my contract because you’re being stubborn. My crew would revolt.”

“Don’t worry, Fairwind, I won’t risk your contract on my behalf. You’re too good at running Azerite to bench. In fact, I’m surprised that Wyrmbane has let you and the _Middenwak_ e sit this long.”

Flynn gestured to Mathias. “Apparently watching you is higher priority than transporting explody bits around to win the war. I’m sure we’ll work overtime once you’re back to normal.”

They finished breakfast and Mathias donned his cloak. The walk back was just as long as he remembered from the day before, but at least he wouldn’t be crawling in tunnels. Well, he hoped not. He followed the captain through the market, keeping a wary eye out for children. He thought he heard Gertie’s laugh, and shuddered.

Flynn led them behind the house, down a narrow alley. “This seems to be the quietest spot. I didn’t find anyone back here while I was checking it out.”

Mathias surveyed the wall. Rough stone, he noted a half dozen easy handholds, and could have scaled it in seconds… if he were human. However, his current short stature meant the spacing was too far apart for him to grasp. He sighed. “I’m going to need your help.”

“Happy to assist.”

“Give me a leg up?”

“No problem. I can boost you to the top.” The big man braced himself and offered his hands for Mathias to step into. Cautiously, he put a boot on the interlocking fingers, and pushed himself up, waiting for the lift.

Then he was flying, up and over the wall.

The momentary soaring caught him off guard, but he recovered fast enough to land well, rolling in the dirt. He tumbled to a stop, then got up and checked to make sure no one had seen that clownish entrance. Satisfied he was alone, he dusted off his cloak. A stack of crates leaned against the wall, and he scaled them.

“Fairwind, what the hell were you thinking?” he shot down quietly.

Flynn was blushing, toe digging in the dirt. “Sorry mate, I forgot you were, well, you. I boosted you like I’d boost any normal man. You should have seen how far you flew though! It was majestic!”

“I didn’t need to see, I experienced it.” He shook his head, and climbed back down. Time to go to work. He circled the barn he’d been behind, and studied the courtyard.

Flynn had been right. A set of cart tracks led in and out of the gate, and while dried, they looked like they’d happened in the previous few days, not at the end of summer some weeks before. He also noted several buckets by the kitchen door, half a sack of horse feed outside the barn, and what looked like reasonably fresh garbage in a pile.

Stealthing, he crept along, looking for people and animals, all the way to the kitchen door. He saw no traces of anyone living, and said a quiet thank you to the Light for that. He made short work of the lock, picking it with ease, and let himself in.

The kitchen was clean and showed no sign of currently being used. Running a hand along several surfaces, he found them free of dust, which told him enough. The cupboards were bare of food, suggesting no one was using the dwelling at the moment.

He had a strong suspicion the house was empty, but assumptions got agents killed. He checked the parlour, drawing room, library, and servant's quarters of the lower floor. Most rooms were closed up for the winter, with drapes pulled and sheets over the furniture. The servant’s quarters were quiet, the narrow beds stripped bare, and dressers contained nothing.

He slipped upstairs, choosing to be thorough. All the family bedrooms were unused, prepared for the vacancy. What few clothes had been left in wardrobes were packed in with fragrant cedar to ward off moths. The bathing chamber had been undisturbed for a while.

He went back into the kitchen, finding the entrance to the basement easily. He pushed the door open and listened. Nothing. He listened longer. Still nothing.

He stealthed again, and crept down the stone steps, not making a sound. The basement was dark, with only the light from the stairwell illuminating it. He slipped out of the shaft of dim light, and froze, listening again. Still nothing. No breathing, no movement.

His hunch had been right, and he was alone.

His eyes adjusted to the near darkness, and he began picking out shapes. A handful of sturdy posts set into the stone, supporting the upper floor. One wall covered in shelves, some stocked with canned goods. A metal cook pot. He even made out the grate in the floor, in the center of the room. He moved to it, looking down. The bottom of the tunnel wasn’t visible from the basement itself.

A small gleam caught his eye, and he bent, picking up a small brass key. Frowning, he turned it over in his gloved palm. He moved to the stairwell, using the light to see better. It was nondescript, serviceable, and looked like any one of hundreds of keys. Keys plenty of people would use in many towns. As it was meant to be.

It told Mathias enough.

He pocketed it, and went back upstairs. Stealthing again, he left the house, locking the door behind him. He headed behind the barn, climbing up on the crates. He peered over, seeing Flynn leaning against the walls, cleaning his fingernails with a small dagger.

“Coming over,” he warned, and climbed on top of the wall. He hung on to the edge and lowered himself down, intending to limit the drop, and squeaked when strong hands encircled his waist and plucked him off the stone like he weighed nothing. “Put me down!”

“That’s the plan, mate,” Flynn said, setting him neatly on the cobblestones. “I didn’t want you to get hurt falling.”

“Flynn, you threw me over a wall. That was far more likely to injure me than dropping carefully to the ground,” Mathias said. He crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring how good the other man’s hands on him had felt.

The Kul Tiran shrugged. “Consider it an apology.” He grinned, a lopsided, foolish look. “Want a ride back to the _‘Wake_? I bet I can cover the distance in half the time.”

Mathias ignored him and started walking as swiftly as he could. Flynn chuckled, and then he fell into step beside him.

“So what did you learn?”

“Not in public,” he said, weaving through the market.

“Ah, fair, fair. I forget myself. Sorry mate.”

Flynn was uncharacteristically silent as they walked. Mathias wanted to watch him, but knew it wasn’t possible with the hood covering his face. Flynn moved with an easy stride. He greeted a dozen people before they were a third of a way back to the berth.

“Oh Tides hang this, we’ll be all day. Climb up.”

Mathias stopped, turning to the other man. “Excuse me?”

“You’re too small, this is taking forever. Climb up, I’ll get us there in five minutes.”

“I would prefer not to.”

“Why not? You did it yesterday.”

“Yesterday I was terrorized by small children and had been crawling through a drainage tunnel.”

“And today you flew over a wall. New day, new trauma. Come on, mate.” Flynn patted his shoulder.

With a sigh, Mathias gave in. He took a few steps and leapt, scrambling up the Kul Tiran’s heavy greatcoat, and settled himself on his back. After tucking his cloak firmly about him, he wrapped an arm about Flynn’s shoulders, and tried not to notice how good he smelled.

“My cat used to ride on my shoulder. He’d perch and stare everyone down.”

“For the last time Flynn, I am not-”

“- a cat. I know, I know.” The big man sighed. “I know you’re not, Mathias. You’re too damned easy to tease though.” Flynn started walking, his pace noticeably faster than Mathias could have matched.

The walk to the _Middenwake_ did only take a few minutes and soon Mathias was sitting down with a cup of coffee and the key in Flynn’s cabin. “I found this in the basement,” he explained, handing it over. “Between it and the bracers, I know my agents were held down there.”

“It looks like any standard key,” the sailor said.

“It’s supposed to. It fits a footlocker where our operatives store their personal effects. Notice the tiny scratches on the edge? That’s the code for the agent.”

“Do you know whose it is?”

Mathias shook his head. “There’s a ledger at headquarters with them all recorded. There are too many to memorize. But it tells me it’s an SI:7 key, not some random one. My operatives were down there. I need to go after them.”

“But you’re tiny, you’re going to need help.”

“Too many of my normal agents are on missions, I can’t assemble a team in time. Wyrmbane will have to work as backup. Do you have paper and ink?”

“Of course, where do you suppose I write reports?” Flynn looked offended. “Why aren’t you just talking to him?”

“No time. If I talk, he’ll argue, and that wastes time. I need to get north of Hatherford, and I need to do it now.”

“I’m coming with, mate.”

“I can’t let you do that. There’s a chance you’ll get hurt, or killed. This isn’t simple azerite runs, Flynn. SI:7 missions are dangerous.”

The Kul Tiran’s sea-blue eyes flashed. “And you think I’ve spent my life free of danger? I was a pirate, for Tide’s sake. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was still a price on my head in a few places. I’ve almost died more than once. Hell, Sweete’s men nearly finished me off not that long ago. I’m not concerned about the danger. I am concerned about you facing it alone. Besides, Wyrmbane set me to keep watch, and that’s what I’ll do.”

Mathias studied the man in front of him. Serious expression, soft auburn hair, stiff set of shoulders, and his heart twinged. He didn’t want to risk Flynn’s life, but having him along would make the mission easier. And, there was the companionship aspect of it. Mathias was surprised at how fast he’d gotten used to being in the other man’s presence.

“Very well. But you have to follow my orders. If you don’t, you might get us both killed.”

Flynn gave half a salute, crooked grin on his face. “Aye, aye, Master Shaw. Let me get you that paper and ink.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, that went quicker than I’d expected,” Flynn said as he stepped into his cabin. He grinned at Mathias. “Handed Shandris the letter, and while she was trying to get Wyrmbane’s attention, I nicked down to your office for the wax & that seal.”

“Did you go through my drawers while you were there?” Shaw frowned at him.

“No time. The wax was in the top right drawer, like you said. I was stepping off the ship right as your Commander friend was asking why you couldn’t deliver the note in person. I was gone before ‘Ask Fairwind’ turned into a demand.” He handed over the items.

Mathias took them with a nod, softening the wax over the candle on the desk. He dripped it efficiently onto the letter on the desk, and pressed the small seal into it. “There, that should do for mounts.”

“Why’d you need an official seal? Wouldn’t a note do?”

Mathias shook his head. “Too easy for people to forge a request. My dagger hilts are unique. However, since they’re Vulpera sized right now, they won’t do. This is the backup, stashed away in case someone needs to write a missive in my stead. The stable that keeps our mounts knows to check for it.”

“Useful. I suppose Kelsey or that goblin guy has to take your place when you’re gone, don’t they? Speaking of daggers, why aren’t yours fancier? I’d expect with you being the head of SI:7, you’d have something flashier.”

“Flashy weapons are often too ornamental, poorly balanced, and shoddily made. Those will get you killed. Give me a pair of plain, serviceable weapons any day over flashy. I’d even take your cutlasses if I had to have a weapon. They’re shiny, but I’m sure that’s for show.”

Flynn caught himself touching the hilt of one sword. “Aye, they’re left over from my freebooting days. But you’re right, they’re balanced and well-made.”

“Anyway, we’re wasting time. We need to get to the stable and get mounts, if we’re to get to my agents. I’ll be using Kelsey’s mount, and I’m sure they’ll have something sturdy enough for you.”

Flynn opened the door and gestured for Mathias to go first. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Not exactly. But perhaps fewer pints at the tavern would do you good. Easier to outrun those that want you dead when you’re not carrying extra weight.”

“I’m on a ship, mate. Where in the blazes am I going to run? Straight up the mast?”

The spy glanced at him. “I was thinking about people in Boralus.”

He scoffed. “I’m on good terms with everyone here. Mostly.”

That earned him rolled eyes. He pretended not to notice.

“Hop up? We are in a hurry, right?”

With a sigh and a running start, Mathias climbed him like a tree, settling on his back easily. Flynn tried not to shiver at the contact. Having the other man there, settled in and holding on, felt comforting. _Stop mooning, you lovesick cretin_ , he thought.

The stables weren’t far, and Flynn kept up a quick pace. Once outside, the Mathias slid off him, and handed him the paper. “You present the letter. Don’t give away who I am. As far as they care, we’re a pair of agents needing mounts.”

“Got it.” He opened the small door in the side of the stable and stepped in, momentarily blind in the dim lighting. Blinking several times, he could just make out someone approaching him.

“Can I help you?” A man’s deep baritone sounded from darkness. Flynn thrust the letter in that direction.

“We were told to give you this?” he said, it coming out as a question.

The paper was taken from his hand, and there was silence for a moment. Then, the man spoke. “Well, I can get you a horse, not a problem. But the other mount, well, that’s a problem.”

“Why?” He knew Mathias would want him to ask.

“Threw a shoe. Farrier can’t be here for a couple more hours, so unless you want to wait, you’ll have to take two horses.”

There was no way a Vulpera could control a full-sized horse. Flynn glanced down at his companion looking for an answer. Mathias shook his head.

“Can’t wait, and can’t make do with two horses. My companion is too small.”

“TYou two can ride double,” the stable master said. Flynn could see him well enough by then to see the shrug. “I can’t make a mount ready to go any faster.”

Flynn glanced at Mathias again, this time getting a sigh and a nod.

“That’ll do. Thanks, mate.”

Within a few minutes, a brown gelding was brought out, saddled and ready. Flynn swung himself up in the saddle, leaned down, and placed his hands around Mathias’s middle, lifting him easily to set him behind. It wasn’t ideal, but Flynn assumed Mathias wouldn’t be comfortable with being held for the duration of the ride.

They left Boralus at a fast walk, waiting until they’d cleared the city before Flynn urged the horse faster.

“Sorry we couldn’t get you a mount, mate,” Flynn apologized to Mathias as they rode. “I’m with you though, waiting wouldn’t have been very good.”

“At this point, every minute matters. I would have preferred to have Kelsey’s horse, but this seems to be how my week is going.”

Flynn shot a sympathetic look back over on shoulder, meeting the other man’s eyes briefly. He noticed a bleakness there that he hadn’t seen earlier in the day.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find them, and get them out of there. I might be big, but I can be quiet and hard to see. I won’t let you down,” he said.

“Thanks, Flynn. I appreciate you going into this with me.”

A tingle warmed Flynn’s chest, but he tamped it down. Now was not the time to be going soft. That time had been earlier, and had passed. He still wondered if he’d caught a glimpse of Mathias’s brilliant green eye watching him dress that morning. Part of him hoped the master spy had been awake when he had indulged in freely cuddling and stroking the man. If he had been aware, he hadn’t pulled away, and at one point, even snuggled closer.

But the more reasonable part of his brain assumed Mathias had been sound asleep, and that it had been a good thing. While he hadn’t done anything inappropriate towards the other man, he still might have taken offense to Flynn’s hands stroking him like a cat. The spy’s fur was soft, Flynn wouldn’t argue that, but it was the man underneath Flynn had wanted to touch. And that man hadn’t shown any interest in him besides using him as a heater. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up that there was desire beneath that frosty exterior.

They rode in silence for almost two hours, before the assassin spoke. “Slow down, we should be getting close.”

Flynn slowed the horse to a walk, then twisted in the saddle. “So, you haven’t explained the plan. You do have a plan, right? Because I don’t fancy going in there without one. I mean, I do it all the time, but you’re smarter and better at planning than I am, so I’d expect you to come up with _something_.”

Something like a flash of a smile crossed the other man’s face. “Yes, Captain, I have a plan. It involves you and the horse staying hidden while I scout the location and get a sense of it.”

Flynn frowned. “That doesn’t seem like much of a plan.”

“It’s only the beginning. I’ll refine the rest of it once I know what’s going on with the compound. Can’t make a plan without seeing the layout.”

“Fair enough. Where do I wait?”

He felt Mathias shift, then he was standing on the back of the horse, gripping the collar of Flynn’s greatcoat for balance. He leaned over him, surveying the landscape, then pointed. “There, that deer trail. Head down it, and we’ll find a spot.”

Flynn did as was asked, and turned down a narrow path he would have missed completely. It was overgrown and windy, but just wide enough for the horse to go through. He was grateful he was wearing sturdy trousers and boots to ward off the scraggly bushes. He had to duck under a couple tree limbs, and felt Mathias do the same, the small man holding tightly to him as they passed underneath. He couldn’t say he minded the touch.

Finally, a small clearing opened up, just big enough to turn the horse around in. “Here,” said Mathias, jumping from the horse once they’d stopped. He landed neatly, then looked expectantly at Flynn. “Get off, you’re too tall a profile. Wait here until I come back. If I’m running, mount up and help me, because that means-”

“They saw you and we need to ride hell-for-leather,” Flynn finished, sliding off the horse. Tides, his thighs hurt. “Not the first time I’ve had to deal with the Irontide, they like me even less than they like you blokes, if possible.”

Mathias regarded him a moment, green eyes studying his face. “It’s easy to forget that you walked away from freebooting intact,” he said softly. “Most don’t.”

Flynn busied himself petting the horse. “Yeah, well, I got lucky.”

“I don’t think that was all,” was the murmur. Flynn’s head snapped up, looking at Mathias, but he was already slipping into the brush.

Flynn spent the time waiting for his companion’s return patting the horse and listening. The forest was quiet, although not still. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the estate, but trusted that they were close enough that his silence was needed. He listened to the birds in the trees, chirping and singing, but he couldn’t spot any. Birdwatching was never his thing, anyway.

Mathias was gone long enough, and Flynn was still enough, that a small rabbit hopped into the clearing, stopping to regard both man and horse with a bit of curiosity. Flynn smiled, but made no move towards the critter. He knew the moment he did, it would be gone in a flash.

“I’m back,” Mathias said from the front of the horse. Flynn jumped, and the rabbit leapt into the bushes. A dagger went flying past him, in the direction the rabbit went.

“Mathias!” he chided quietly. “That’s cruel.”

The Vulpera appeared, looking abashed. “Couldn’t help it. I saw the rabbit and my brain went ‘lunch’ and I was too far for teeth and claws.” He disappeared into a shrub, coming out with a clean dagger. “At least I was at a bad angle, and missed completely.”

Flynn shook his head. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d hit the poor thing.”

“Had lunch with me?” There was a gleam in those green eyes.

“What did you find out?” He decided to change the subject.

“Not a large estate, but it’s well maintained. There’s a wall around it, with a wide gate for the main entrance, and a smaller one near the barn and stables. That gate is open right now. No one’s patrolling the property, which is careless of them, but will work in our favor.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Some hired muscle. Two entered the barn, and two different ones came out. I assume they’re supposed to be guards for my agents. Means they’re still alive. Doesn’t look like they’re preparing to move them yet. There’s no cart or transportation that I can see, and no horses in the stable.”

Flynn tied the horse to a small tree. “So, do you have a plan now?”

“I do.”

“You’re mad,” Flynn said a short time later, after the plan was explained. “No one’s going to fall for that.”

Mathias grinned. “It never fails. I just hate being on this end of it.”

“Well, they’re your agents, and you’re the master spy. I’m just here to make sure you don’t get killed.”

“Follow me then.”

They stealthed, moving quietly up the road, checking for scouts. It appeared no one expected visitors, as there were no outer patrols or scouts that either man could find. Flynn found it sloppy, but given that Mathias had managed two bracers and a key, he figured they weren’t dealing with a top-notch organization.

They paused outside the gate for one last conversation. “You promise not to stab me for my part in this?” Flynn asked Mathias for the third time.

“For the last time, Flynn, I promise. This will work out, just watch. You’ll learn something.”

“Hard to do this on a ship,” he muttered, standing up and stretching.

Flynn moved across the yard, Mathias tucked under his arm, leaning on him heavily. To his surprise, there was no one in the space between the house and the barn where the SI:7 agents were being kept. Well, that would make the plan, such as it was, work so much better.

They drew near, Mathias acting weak and injured. Flynn scooped him up, according to the plan, and carried him the last few steps, a frantic expression on his face. He made the small barn door and pounded, calling out just loud enough to be heard "Help! I need help!"

The door swung inward, and a pair of guards stood there, weapons drawn. One had just enough time to ask "Where did you-" before Flynn launched the furred assassin at them. Mathias flew across the distance, claws out, and struck both across the chest, sending them sprawling. His daggers appeared in his hands in a split-second, and in short order, both guards lay dead at his feet, their throats cut.

Flynn blinked, blinked again, and stepped into the barn, shutting the door behind him. "Did you- did you bite one of them?"

"A good assassin uses all weapons at their disposal. Teeth and claws are currently my weapons just as much as daggers," Mathias replied, then shrugged. "Besides, at the moment it made sense."

"Remind me never to piss you off, mate."

"Stop turning your reports in late, Captain, and we won't have problems." There was a grin full of teeth. "Take care of these, I need to see to my agents."

Flynn shook his head and lifted a body, dragging it towards a pile of hay nearby. He pushed loose hay aside, and then threw the body into the middle. He went back for the other guard, tossing him on top of the first, and covered the pair with plenty of hay. To the casual observer, nothing would look amiss.

Job done, he headed to the far end of the barn, where Mathias was conferring with his agents. They were still tied, but he'd removed their gags, and it seemed like he'd managed to convince them of who he really was.

"Best guess from guard schedules is we've been here three days, Master Shaw. They drugged us on the trip here, so I might be off by half a day or so," the female agent said. He noted that despite the bruises covering her face, and that black eye, she was still pretty.

"I think Mirabelle has it right," said the man beside her. His face was untouched. "It's been the longest three days since you sent us rookies out in the woods with only a dagger and a target to reach." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"We'll get you out of here. Both of you can walk?"

"Eddie's hurt pretty badly, but I can help him," Mirabelle said. "I can't shift though, they're keeping me drugged."

Flynn must have looked puzzled, because Mathias looked up at him and said, "She's a worgen. Had she shifted, they'd both been out of here by now."

Flynn nodded. "What do you need from me?" The plan hadn't gone much past getting into the barn.

"Get Eddie free, I'll handle Mirabelle."

Flynn went to work freeing the man from his restraints. He cursed whoever'd tied the knots. They were solid sailor's knots, and wouldn't come free. He drew a dagger from his boot and started sawing away at the rope.

"I never expected to see you on that end of Get Help, Master Shaw," Eddie said, as Flynn worked.

"Ordinarily I do the throwing, but in this situation, heaving Captain Fairwind would have been a little much."

Flynn let out a small laugh. "True, although I would have paid good money to see that."  


Mathias shot him a small smile. "Maybe once this enchantment wears off, I'll show you, and you can be the one ending up in a snowbank."  


Flynn caught the agents exchanging a confused look, and decided not to elaborate. He managed to cut the ropes binding Eddie's wrists, and the other man pulled his arms in front of him, flexing his wrists gratefully. "Thank you, Captain."  


"Not a problem, mate. Now, for your legs."  


"Shhh," Mathias said, suddenly looking at the door, "Someone's coming."  


Flynn stopped what he was doing, crouching low and stealthing. Silently, he crept towards the door, scooping up a handful of dirt from the barn floor as he moved. Positioning himself behind the small door, he glanced over to where the agents were. They sat as if bound, and there was no sign of Mathias. He kept himself in stealth, and waited.  


It didn't take long. Less than a minute passed before the door swung inwards, and two men entered. "I'm telling you, I heard someone shouting out here," one was saying. Flynn let them close the door before he threw the handful of dirt in the closer man's eyes, and then drew his cutlass and rapped sharply on the temple of the other man, knocking him unconscious. As the second man crumpled, he turned to the blinded one, and placed him in a chokehold, kicking his knees out from under him as he struggled to get free. After what felt like an eternity, the man stopped fighting and sagged. Flynn held him a few moments longer for good measure, then let him go. He collapsed sideways and lay still.  


"Nicely done," Mathias said, appearing next to him. "We can use these two as decoys while we get Mirabelle and Eddie out. The subterfuge won't hold long, but it should buy us enough time to get away. As long as backup's nearby, we'll be fine."  


"You're in charge," Flynn said, beginning to drag one of the men towards the captives. Once he had him by Eddie's chair, he stopped and finished cutting through the ropes binding the SI:7 agent. One the spy was free, he stood and helped get the unconscious man onto the chair. Flynn left the tying of ropes to Eddie and went back for the second. He hoisted him into Mirabelle's chair, and stepped back just in time for her to release a backhand across his face.  


"Careful now, you'll wake him up with a blow like that," he said mildly.  


"Bastard spent his entire shift talking about what he wanted to do to me," she growled, not sounding human. "He deserves a lot more than that."  


Flynn pulled a cutlass and offered it. "If you'd like, be my guest."  


She eyed it, longing on her face. Finally, she shook her head. "No, I'd rather he stand trial. If backup is coming, and if Master Shaw says it is, then I have no doubts. He'll be lucky if he doesn't hang for his crimes. And even if he doesn't, prison here is far worse than he'd have it in Stormwind. He'll more than pay for what he threatened to do."

The agents free and the guards secured, Mathias said he'd check the area. Flynn and the others waited in stealth around the barn door. From what he could see, Eddie didn't look so good. He wavered on his feet, and despite the half smile he wore, his face was pale and drawn. Flynn thought back to Mirabelle's words, and wondered how bad the man's internal injuries were. He wanted to ask Mathias if they should send the two back to Boralus on the horse before reinforcements arrived, just in case.  
Mathias came back, hood drawn tight, and waved them on. Stealthing, they set out in a circuitous route around the edge of the compound, behind as much cover as could be managed.  
Flynn was bringing up the rear, headed to a haystack, when he heard a door bang. Quickly, he hurried to hide with the others, and peered around the pile. A woman had opened the kitchen door of the house, and was throwing out scraps for a motley assortment of chickens. She didn't appear to be looking any further than the flock, but none of them moved until she'd gone back inside, the door shutting with another bang.  


They stopped again behind a wagon, and Mirabelle used hand signals to tell Mathias something. Flynn didn't know exactly what, but he could guess it had something to do with their mode of transport to the estate.  


They reached the open gate, and slipped out of the compound. Flynn expected they'd go straight for the horse, but Mathias took them on a different route, leaving them in the brush twice to double back. Eddie kept going paler and paler, to the point he looked like a freshly made sail. Flynn was concerned he wasn't going to make it back to Boralus.  


Mathias led them back to the horse. "I didn't see any sign they noticed you're missing. We should be safe, for now. I think you two should take the horse and head back to Boralus. Both of you need a healer; you're no good to me in the fight that's going to happen once reinforcements arrive."  


"Master Shaw, I am perfectly-" Mirabelle began, but was cut off.  


"You're no good to me dead, agent," he said sternly. "Your record is exemplary, and I want to see it continue for many more years. Get Eddie to a healer."  


She frowned, but ultimately nodded. The two agents moved towards the horse. Flynn went to his head and held him so they could mount, then untethered him and handed the reins over. "Take the deer path the way," he pointed behind them, "And turn right when you hit the road. You're about two hours at a fast walk, less at a trot, but I wouldn't recommend it, Eddie looks like he'll spew his insides all over if you bounce him too much."  


"No Captain, I don't think I'd handle a trot too well right now," Eddie said, grinning weakly.  


The two set off, Flynn watching them go. Once they were out of sight, he turned to Mathias. "Now what?"  


"Now, we wait for reinforcements. They shouldn't be long. We should get closer to the road."  


They moved quietly along the path, finding a section by the road hidden by a thick covering of brush. While it would keep people from seeing them, it would also keep them from seeing out. Flynn figured it didn't matter. If the 7th Legion was coming to help, they'd make enough noise to be heard from a distance. He settled in, glad his greatcoat was heavy enough to keep his seat dry. He noticed Mathias bundling up in his cloak, pulling it close.  


"Cold?"  


"A little, but not too bad. At least I'm dry today," the furred spy answered.  


"True, no snowbanks down here to throw you into," Flynn said, grinning at him.  


Mathias let a small smile show. "True, and I am thankful. I can't say I ever expected to be thrown into a snowbank quite like that. But I warn you, Fairwind, never do that again."  


"Or what?" He kept grinning.  


"Or I will disembowel you while you sleep." There was no smile on Mathias's face.  


Flynn frowned.  


The assassin smiled. "I'm just giving you a hard time, Flynn. I won't kill you in your sleep. Not over that, at least."  


"Well, that's a relief, mate. You had me worried for a minute. I was wondering what else I could screw up that would earn me getting my insides on the outside."  


Mathias shook his head. "I'd never do that to you. First, it's a terrible way to die. Second, if you truly did something that warranted punishment, I'd leave it up to the courts. I only step in when I absolutely must. And third, I'd rather nothing happen to you."  


Flynn's heart warmed at the last remark. "Warming up to me, are you?" He heard the note of hope in his voice.  


"You're more annoying than an angry wasp, but you're damn good at running azerite, and you know pretty much everyone who can provide information. You're a valuable asset, Fairwind. Losing you would be a blow to us as much as Boralus. And Taelia would be livid."  


Flynn's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, can't have useful assets disappearing on you."  


"Of course not. It's too expensive to train a good one," Mathias agreed. He parted the bushes and looked out on the road. Then he continued, much more quietly. "Besides, who would come by with reports days late, distract the entire crew of the Wind's 

Redemption, and treat me like just another person?"  


Flynn looked over at him. "People don't do that?"  


"Of course not. I'm the head of SI:7, counsel to King Wrynn, and a master assassin. Most people are afraid of me, as they should be. Others feel they have to put a level of respect and distance between myself and them, because of my position."  


"So it's lonely at the top?" Flynn asked softly.  


"Very." Mathias answered, just as softly. "You're one of the few that doesn't treat me like I'm untouchable, like I'm too powerful to consort with mere mortals. It's refreshing."  


Flynn shrugged, even though he knew the spy couldn't see him. "I've never been the type to treat people like that. I can be polite, I know my manners, well, some of them anyway, and I wouldn't call the Lord Admiral 'hey you' but we're all just people, you know? 

Commander Wyrmbane has a title, and I'll use it, and so does the king, if I ever met him, but we all put our pants on one leg at a time, you know? Makes no difference to me if you're a master spy or the stable boy."  


"I appreciate it, Flynn," Mathias said, turning to look him in the eye. Those brilliant green eyes were serious. "Spy work is a lonely business. Having a few people treat you like a normal person goes a long way."  


Flynn smiled. "You know, I'm in port most evenings. If you wanted to grab a beer at the tavern, or a meal, I'm often willing. If I'm not with Tae, I'm spending the nights on the 'Wake usually. I have a flat, but I'm seldom there."  


Mathias studied him for a long moment. "I'd like that," he said. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he swiveled his head in the direction of the road, and parted the bushes again. "I think our reinforcements are here."  


"I can't hear a thing."  


"These huge ears are good for something I suppose," Mathias said. "I hear horses and plate armor. Unless I miss my guess, the 7th Legion is less than 10 minutes away."  


Flynn almost asked him what he'd been meaning to say, but realized the moment had passed. Instead, he rechecked his cutlasses and boot daggers, and prepared for what was hopefully reinforcements.  


For the first time since he'd set foot on the _Wind's Redemption_ two days prior, luck was with him, and Mathias was right. Commander Wyrmbane rode up on a large warhorse, with a complement of soldiers at his back. Flynn could see a handful of 

SI:7 agents, or people whom he assumed were, scattered in among them, as well as Shandris Feathermoon.  


"He took your note seriously," he said in a low voice.  


"Of course he would," Mathias said briskly, then slipped out of the brush. "Commander. Thank you for coming so quickly. If we move now, we should catch the compound off guard and be able to get them all."  


"Shaw, I thought I told you to stay put!" What little Flynn could see of Wyrmbane's face beneath his plate helm was set in disapproval. "Now you're all the way across the sound with only a sailor as your backup, and a hare-brained plan."  


"I take it you met my agents on the way back?"  


"We did, they're in bad shape. One of my boys did a quick patch job on them, but they're heading back to Boralus. Still, it was foolish for you to rush off with so little backup."  


"The Captain and I did fine. Sometimes a small team is better, Halford. But for this, I need a large group. Help me up, I'll go in with you."  


The paladin just stared at him. "What?"  


"I can't keep up on foot. I'll ride behind you."  


Flynn had finally fought free of the bushes and come up behind Mathias. He sighed, and bending down, set his hands about Mathias’s slim waist and boosted him onto the back of Wyrmbane's horse. To its credit, the warhorse didn't move an inch.  


"Thanks, Flynn," Mathias said, putting one hand on the paladin's shoulder. "Now, Halford, let's be off."  


Flynn thought he saw a small, amused smile on the Commander's lips as he urged his horse forward, but with that much plate, it was hard to tell. He stepped back, letting the group pass, and followed at a distance, clear of the dust they kicked up. This was Mathias's operation, he was largely a bystander now.  


By the time he reached the estate, the action was mostly over. At least a dozen men and women knelt in the empty space between house and barn, arms tied behind their backs, many of the 7th legion standing watch over them. Flynn noticed a skinny kid, maybe eleven, trying to sneak out the same open get he and Mathias had brought the agents out, and he stealthed, sneaking around the fence. The boy was nearly clear of the gate by the time he got there, but Flynn's much longer stride let him catch the skinny kid easily. He dropped stealth right behind him, and reached out, catching the runaway by the collar.  


"I don't think so, lad."  


"Let go of me!" The kid twisted in his grip.  


"Oh no, we're rounding up everyone, and you're part of everyone. Come on, back with the others."  


"But I don't know anything! I'm just a stable boy," came the protest.  


"If that's the case, then nothing will happen to you. But they will want to talk to you."  


The kid aimed a kick for his shins, but Flynn was faster, and danced out of the way. Patience wearing thin, he scooped the boy up and threw him over his shoulder. Small fists beat ineffectually at his back, but he ignored them.  


"PUT ME DOWN.”  


"Not a chance, kid. You need to take up with better people."  


"But they said I could become a sailor if I stayed with them."  


"Oh they did?" Flynn knew he was making a face. "They tell you that it'd be on a pirate ship?"  


"No, just that I could be a sailor."  


"These be pirates, lad. And from experience, let me tell you, being a pirate isn't nearly as fun as the stories make it out to be."  


"You were a pirate?" The kid had stopped fighting him, and instead, was all ears.  


"Aye, and it's a dangerous, often miserable existence. Let me make you a deal. Do what the Alliance tell you. Answer their questions, don't lie. If you end up being set free, look for the _Middenwake_ in Boralus Harbor. I'm the captain. I'll take you on as a cabin boy. No piracy. It's hard work though."  


"I'm not afraid of working hard, I'll do whatever you need me to," the kid said eagerly. "Being a sailor like my Da's all I ever wanted."  


"Well, if you're a good cabin boy, we'll see about turning you into a sailor." Tidemother, what was he getting himself into?  


Now back with the others, he set the kid down. "What's your name?"  


"Jared."  


"I'm Captain Fairwind. Now do as I say, and remember what I offered. To the end of the line with you." He gave the boy a gentle push towards the line of prisoners. True to his word, Jared moved to a spot, knelt, and put his hands behind his back.  


"Who's that?" Shandris asked, coming up beside him.  


"Stable boy. Name's Jared. Says he knows nothing, but I figured Mat-Master Shaw would want everyone accounted for," he said. "Claims he doesn't know anything, but I imagine he knows more than he realizes."  


"Probably. People tend to ignore kids. Good job, Fairwind. We would have missed him." She moved over to the boy, swiftly tying his hands.  


Flynn went to the corner of the barn and leaned against it, out of the way of the 7th Legion's work. He saw them bring out a few stragglers, and relaxed when he realized he didn't know anyone. He'd been concerned about being recognized from his freebooting days.  


Mathias's backup was forming the prisoners into two lines, getting them ready for the long walk back to Boralus, when the man himself finally stepped out of the estate house. Flynn watched him walk over to Wyrmbane, arms full of paperwork, and gesture to the paladin's horse. The two men went over, and began putting the documents and scrolls into the saddlebags. Flynn enjoyed the way he moved, the grace he had, even while a Vulpera. The tight fitting leather uniform didn't hurt either, highlighting muscled honed by decades of practice and use. Muscles he'd been stroking that very morning. He shifted, looking away. It was not a good time to let his mind wander there.  


"Fairwind, come here." Mathias's voice carried clearly across the courtyard. Flynn pushed off the building and hurried over to where his companion was waiting with the commander.  


"Yes, Master Shaw?"  


"We're headed back ahead of the group. Since several will be on foot, escorting the prisoners, Halford has graciously loaned us the use of a mount. Sadly, there's nothing small enough for me to handle, so I'll be riding with you." Mathias's face twisted in a grimace. "Not only will we make better time than the group, we won't end up all dusty if we leave now."  


"Right, good idea, that. The dust gets everywhere, and takes forever to get out. Can't imagine how long it'd take to get out of your fur."  


The look Mathias shot him promised murder.  


"Ah, yeah, sorry mate, forgot."  


"Whatever. Let's get going." The man stalked off, the set of his shoulders under his cloak indicating irritation. Flynn shot an apologetic smile at Wyrmbane and hurried after.  


Their mount was another bay gelding, and Flynn mounted up, leaning down to offer a hand to Mathias. The other man took it, letting Flynn do most of the work to get him up into the saddle. "You okay, mate?" He asked, once the assassin was settled.  


"Just tired and a little cold. It's been a long day." Mathias leaned in, against Flynn.  


A thought occurred to him. "Come here, ride up front."  


"Why?"  


"So you don't fall asleep on me and fall off the damned horse. I am not fishing you out of a puddle."  


"That's not very dignified."  


Flynn twisted so he could look behind him. "Mathias, it doesn't have to be dignified, it just has to be practical. You're cold and tired, and I can't keep you from falling back there. What happens if you don't fall, but your cloak slips? At least up here, I can keep you covered. And you can lean against me for warmth. We're in the middle of nowhere, it's not like someone's going to go 'Oh there goes the head of SI:7, snuggled up against that former pirate' out here."  


"I will not be snuggling."  


"Exactly. So. Get. Up. Here."  


With a grumble, Mathias clambered around, settling himself in front of Flynn. The horse was too wide for him to sit astride, so he had to tuck one leg under, and let the other dangle, at least as far as it would go, which was about Flynn's knee. He spent a moment arranging his cloak, pulling the hood closer, and then, with a sigh, leaned back against Flynn. The big man tried to ignore his heart speeding up, instead hoping that Mathias couldn't feel it.  


"Better. Now rest, I'll get us back to Boralus."  


He urged the horse into a fast walk, and they headed away from the estate, down the road. Flynn hoped no one had watched their little power struggle, but figured it really wasn't his problem. If anyone had, they'd probably think twice before mentioning it to the head of the organization that specialized in killing people and making it look like an accident.  


The weather was clear, with a light breeze blowing, and he was in good spirits as they rode. After a bit, Mathias relaxed further into Flynn, seemingly content to let the big man handle the next part of the adventure he'd set them on. Flynn began singing a shanty softly, in time to the horse's hoofbeats, enjoying the moment.  


Once he'd finished, Mathias spoke up. "You have a lovely singing voice."  


"Thanks. It's nothing fancy, but I can shoulder my share of the ship's entertainment."  


"Do you sing often?"  


"Not when we're in port, unless I'm asked. When we're out on voyages that last a while, I'll sing with the crew, it passes the time at night. I know a lot of songs. Want to hear another one?"  


"Please," Mathias said.  


Flynn began again, a Kul Tiran lullaby his mother had sung him when he was small. He sang it twice, and by the time he was done, the spymaster was sound asleep in his arms. Flynn shifted the reins to one hand, and with the other, pulled his greatcoat close around Mathias, and tucked his arm around him. He couldn't stop the smile on his face as they rode on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you've never seen [Get Help.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpZakOJlRoY)


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Mathias, we're almost back. Where do 7th Legion horses stable?" Flynn's voice was soft in his ear, waking him gently. Mathias stirred, opening his eyes to see the city walls in front of him. The last thing he'd remembered was Flynn singing something gentle. 

"Same stables we use. Did I sleep the entire way back?" He sat up, pulling free of the big man, and stretched, then adjusted his cloak and hood.  


"You did. I take it you didn't sleep much on this mission."  


"Hard to when the enemy might discover you at any moment," Mathias said matter-of-factly.  


Flynn guided the horse towards the stables they'd been to earlier. "I'm honored you trusted me enough to nap all the way back."  


Mathias opened his mouth to say he didn't trust anyone, but stopped. He had slept, comfortably, in Flynn's arms, for several hours on the way back. He'd slept on Flynn the night before. Perhaps he did trust him. "Thanks for not waking me," he said instead.  


As soon as they were in the stable yard, he slid off, leaving Flynn to return the horse. The stable master didn't seem too surprised to see them on a different horse, and Mathias caught enough of the conversation to hear that theirs had returned, with Mirabelle and Eddie, some time before.  


They left the stable in silence, Mathias checking the surroundings for danger automatically, but his mind was on trusting Flynn. Why him? Of all people, the handsome, boisterous, irreverent, ex-pirate was the least likely person for him to trust. Was it his good looks? Was Mathias letting his libido do all the thinking? He'd never let it before. Letting it decide things for him now was not going to happen.  


"So, now what? File your report on the _Redemption_?"  


“It can wait. I’d like to wash, even though this body hates it, and change. A good meal wouldn’t hurt either.”  


“I can get the tub for you, if you’d like,” Flynn offered.

Mathias shook his head. “No need. If you’ll help me, I can use my own shower. Renzik leaves changes of clothes in my flat, and I can borrow a set of his for the duration. Feel free to grab one too, it would beat that tub you have for size. The apartment’s Kul Tiran sized.”

“Appreciate it, I’m covered in dust.”

They walked in companionable silence to the ship. Mathias stayed on deck while Flynn ducked below decks to gather his things. He stared across the harbor, not seeing anything, just thinking about the handsome captain that was going to his flat to shower. He quickly blinked _that_ mental image away.

“Ready, mate?” Flynn’s voice came from behind him, startling him.

“Yes, my place isn’t far.”

Mathias led Flynn to his flat, situated over the Harbormaster’s office. After checking to make sure no one had disturbed the small tell-tales he’d left, he unlocked the door and slipped quietly inside. A quick survey of the rooms told him they were unoccupied, and no one had been in the space in his absence. Good.

“You want to shower first?” he asked his companion.

“Nah, you’ll need more time to dry off with all that fur. I brought extra towels.” Flynn waggled the bag. “I’ll get your water going. How hot do you like it?”

“Hot. Not scalding, but plenty hot.”

“A man after my own heart,” Flynn said, giving Mathias a smile that froze him in place. After the big man disappeared into the small bathoom, Mathias shook himself, moving to where Renzik’s spare clothes were. He grabbed a set, as well as a robe, and was back in the main room by the time Flynn came back.

“Water’s ready. If you need brushed, I can help once I’m done.”

“Appreciate it,” Mathias said, heading for the bathroom.

A shower wasn’t any more pleasant than bathing, much to his dismay. He wasn’t given to many creature comforts, but a hot shower after a long day was one of the few he indulged in, and to have the enjoyment taken away from him grated. He couldn’t turn back fast enough.

Between his place and Flynn’s packing, he had enough towels to get reasonably dry before slipping on his robe. He knew he needed to brush his fur before he dressed, and he was going to need help. The thought wasn’t as unpleasant as it had been the first time.

“You didn’t take long,” Flynn remarked when Mathias stepped into the living area.

“Water isn’t very pleasant as a Vulpera,” he answered. “Can I borrow your brush?”

“Sure thing. I’ll get where you can’t reach once I’m done. Won’t be long, mate.”

Mathias brushed his fur, not bothering to make much progress. He kept telling himself it was because Flynn could see the spots that needed extra brushing better than he could, so he may as well leave most of it for him.

Once the other man was out of the shower, he took to brushing with a will. Mathias slipped the robe down and presented his back. “I itch something fierce on my back, I don’t know why. Am I still wet?”

The brush ran down his back, and he shivered in pleasure. It was so much better to be brushed, not that he’d admit it.

“You’re pretty dry, mate. Well, as dry as your fur can get after a shower. But, you’re shedding.” Flynn’s hand appeared in his view, with a handful of ginger fluff. “Bet you didn’t count on that.”

“Of course. What else will today throw at me?” He grumped.

“It could be worse. You could be bald.”

“Humans are mostly bald, Flynn.”

“I meant be foxy and be bald. Now that would look funny, wouldn’t it?”

That got a smile out of Mathias. He closed his eyes and leaned into the brush. “That would be awful. I’ll take furry over bald Vulpera.”

“Here, I’ll scratch, maybe that will help.” Flynn set the brush down, and began scratching Mathias’s back.

“Oh yes, that’s perfect,” he groaned, rolling his shoulders. The pressure and scratch were exactly right.

“Entire back?” Flynn asked, still scratching.

“Yes, it’s terrible.”

Flynn moved, and suddenly Mathias’s leg was moving of its own accord. He stared in horror as it kicked out in a repetitive motion, much like a dog.

Flynn’s hand came away at the same time Mathias’s covered his face. Silence fell over the room.

“That… is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Flynn said.

“I know 47 ways to kill you with a toothpick, Fairwind,” Mathias said sourly. “Finish the brushing and let’s get back to your ship.”

“Yes, master assassin,” Flynn said, but Mathias could hear the amusement in his voice.

The brushing resumed, and was quickly finished. A small pile of fur remained on the table. He decided he’d deal with it another day. Dressing in Renzik’s clothes, he was pleased to find that they fit fairly well. At least he could be out of his leathers for a while.

Once on the Middenwake, Mathias took a seat at the small table in Flynn’s cabin, staying out of the way. The man had said he could move about the ship, but he still wanted to encounter as few people as possible.

“Different tonight, honey-glazed haunches and rice,” Flynn said as he came through the door. “I don’t think there’s any fish oil.”

“Pity, it’s fantastic stuff,” Mathias said. “I wonder if I’ll like it once I’m back to my normal self.”

Flynn shrugged. “Maybe you just needed to be in the appropriate form to enjoy it properly. Now you know what you’re missing.”

They ate in silence. Mathias demolished his dinner, enjoying every bite. He didn’t know if it was being a Vulpera, or he was simply hungry the past few days, but the food had been delicious.

“Want a drink?” Flynn said, after they’d finished. “I don’t take you for the drinking type, but-”

“Sure.” Mathias said, cutting him off. “Why not? Just remember I can’t out drink a Kul Tiran, even when I’m not furry.”

“Just a nightcap then. It’s been a long day, and we may as well celebrate your agents’ safe return. Let me take the dishes down first, then I’ll pour.”  
“Mind if I borrow that shirt again? I forgot to grab one of my own to sleep in.”

A smile lit the other man’s face, softening it. “Not at all. Hangs on you like a sail though.”

Mathias looked at the floor. “I know, but I don’t feel like going back to my place to find more clothes.”

“It’s fine, mate. Just looks funny. I’ll be back in a few.”

Mathias slipped out of his borrowed garments, and into Flynn’s large shirt. He couldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed the soft scent of salt and soap that clung to the fabric. Even if it was big enough for four Vulpera to fit in, he wasn’t quite ready to slip into his own clothes at night.

When Flynn returned, he carefully poured two glasses, making sure to give Mathias a small amount. Mathias took it with a nod and sipped. It was better than he expected, and the whiskey went down smoothly. “Thanks.”  
“To rescued agents.” Flynn raised his glass.

“To unexpected friends,” he countered, catching the surprise in the other man’s eyes. They drank together.

“Do you need more brushing?” Flynn asked.

“I think I’m fine. Thanks for earlier. You know I was kidding, right? About the toothpick?”

“I hoped you were kidding, but I wasn’t sure which part.”

“I only know 42 ways, not 47.”

Flynn grimaced. “Somehow, that’s not more reassuring, mate.”

Mathias laughed, surprising himself. He hadn’t done that in, well, months. After a moment, Flynn joined in. It was a natural sound, and Mathias found himself relaxing. Between the whiskey and the company, he felt almost at home.

Finishing his drink, he curled up on the chair, resting his head on one knee. “The songs you sang today, what were they?”

“One’s a sea shanty, sung on ships to keep sailors in time while working. Hoisting sails and pulling in lines requires everyone to pull together, and songs help that. And the second is one my mother sang to me, when I was small.”

“You have a lovely voice,” Mathias said, aware he’d already said it. He was feeling sleepy, warmed by the food and whiskey and company. “Would you sing for me again?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Something like the second one. Something soft.” He closed his eyes and waited.

After a moment, Flynn began. It started quiet, a simple, haunting song, about a woman waiting on the shores for her beloved, who was out at sea. As he sang, Mathias saw the song unfold in his mind, saw her wait, day after day, for a loved one who would never come home. It was beautiful and melancholy, and Flynn’s voice added to it.

“Very nice,” he murmured, aware he was all but asleep.

“Thank you,” came the soft reply.

Warm arms encircled him, and he was being lifted. “Where do you want to stay tonight? In here, or in your cabin?”

“With you,” he mumbled, unable to stop the words.

“As you wish.” He was set in the bed, and covered with the quilt. It was the last conscious thing he remembered.

He woke some time later and stretched. The small stove was banked, and emitted a faint glow, outlining Flynn in bed next to him. The big man was on his back, arms above his head. Mathias turned, facing him, and studied his tattoos as best he could in the dim lighting. He chanced waking the other man, and reached out a paw to trace the swallow nearest him. The skin was soft, and the idea of touching Flynn so intimately made him shiver. He withdrew his paw and moved to the far side of the bed to resist doing it again.

Flynn had been a good companion the previous days, taking on the job of watching over him without a complaint, willingly going along with Mathias’s need to find his agents, and aiding him every step of the way. Not only was he capable of being stealthy, he wasn’t quick to kill, but he had no qualms about disabling combatants. Had he not had the upbringing he’d had, Mathias could have seen him being an excellent SI:7 agent. Regulations and rules weren’t something the man would take to well now though. Besides, he was too old to enroll, even if he wanted to.

That also appealed to him. He wasn’t a fresh kid, unaware of the world. He was a man, tested by the world, with his own past and problems. Still younger than Mathias, probably by a decade, but old enough that he had his own wisdom to go with his good looks. And good looks he had aplenty. Lush auburn hair, broad shoulders, and sun-kissed skin; he was a handsome man, and Mathias finally admitted to himself he’d like to get to know him better.

That wasn’t going to happen while he was still furry though. Nothing could happen if he was a Vulpera. It was too awkward, too wrong. He knew people made cross-species relationships work all the time, but as someone born to a human body, and comfortable in one, he wasn’t about to attempt anything while looking like an oversized fox. It didn’t matter if Flynn though he was adorable.

And that was its own problem. Flynn found Mathias Shaw, Vulpera, adorable. That didn’t mean a thing for Mathias Shaw, Human. For all he knew, Flynn only found him attractive in his altered form. That would explain the stroking he’d administered the previous morning.

With a sigh, Mathias turned back to the other man, studying him again in the dim light. Flynn had the covers pulled down, exposing himself to his waist. He was handsome, and Mathias wanted to get closer.

“Damn it all,” he whispered. He crept across the bed, and crawled up on Flynn’s chest, taking the same spot he’d been in that morning. He wasn’t sure if he should wrap his arms about him, in case his movement proved to be a bad idea, but Flynn’s arms came down, wrapping tight around him.

“There you are,” a sleepy voice said, and a hand stroked the back of his head.

Mathias chanced a glance up, seeing Flynn’s face relaxed, his eyes shut. Guessing his new pillow was asleep, he snaked his arms out, around Flynn’s neck, and cuddled in. Sleep came quickly, dragging him under.

He slept a dreamless sleep, warm and comfortable on top of his companion, and woke slowly the next morning. Part of him registered the oddity of it all. Ordinarily he’d snap right awake, even if he didn’t move for a bit, but curled up with Flynn, his brain was slow to react. He enjoyed the moments of sleepy bliss, the rise and fall of the big man’s chest under him, the strong hand stroking his head, the warmth of the large body beneath him. He hadn’t shared a bed with someone, in, well, decades.

Finally cracking one eye, he watched Flynn’s arm flex as it moved rhythmically, the stroking of his hair never stopping. Mathias had to admit it felt good. No one had ever touched him as gently as Flynn had, and he was going to miss it once he turned back. Tentatively, he reached out a hand, running fingers along the other man’s bicep, and stopped.

He had fingers.

And skin, not fur.

“Morning, mate.” Flynn’s voice, soft and quiet, sounded in his ear.

“I’m human again.”

“That you are. Seems to have happened during the night.” Flynn’s hand kept stroking his hair.

Mathias was torn. On one hand, he should get up, get dressed, and get back to work. On the other hand, he was being cuddled by Flynn. As a human.

“I should move, I’m probably crushing you,” he said, trying to judge the situation.

“Only if you want. You’re not that heavy, really. You’re all sharp angles though, I don’t think there’s much fat on you.”

“Fat spies get caught,” he said automatically, repeating what had been drilled into him. He didn’t move.

Flynn lengthened his touches to include Mathias’s neck and upper back. He shivered at the touch while also drinking it in. Without thinking, he buried his head against the other man’s neck with a sigh. Flynn’s only reaction was a hitch in his breathing, and an arm snaking about Mathias’s waist to hold him close.

Mathias closed his eyes, breathing in the scents of salt and soap and man. His arms came up, wrapping around Flynn’s neck and shoulders, and he held him tightly, unwilling to move. If his bed companion was willing to snuggle, he was going to take it. Dimly, he realized the shirt he’d borrowed from Flynn was about his waist, only covering his hips and groin, but he didn’t care.

“Don’t feel obligated to stay put, mate. I didn’t think you’d be interested in me, so don’t do this as a sop to my pride,” Flynn said, stopping his touches.

Mathias lifted his head, meeting those sea-blue eyes. “And are you doing this only to comfort an old man who’s had a rough couple of weeks?”

Flynn looked puzzled. “Tides, no. I’ve wanted this a while. I just thought you weren’t interested. And you can’t be that old.”

“I’m at least a decade older than you.”

Flynn shrugged, bouncing Mathias, and began rubbing his back gently. “A number of my previous lovers were older, some by that much. That hardly qualifies you as ‘old man.’ You’re not Wyrmbane, for Tide’s sake.”

Mathias didn’t know how to answer that, and Flynn’s skilled hands were taking the fight out of him, one tight muscle at a time. He dropped his head down, ceding the argument. He moved one hand up, tangling it in the other man’s thick auburn mane.

“Mmm, I like that,” Flynn purred, hands moving steadily. “I confess, _Master Shaw_ , that I’ve wanted your hands in my hair for some time now.”

“Why on earth would you want me?” he murmured, closing his eyes and stroking the silky hair. “You could have Taelia, or any number of younger, better looking, and more interesting lovers.”

“I’m not interested in other people. I’m interested in you. You, with your bright copper hair, your intelligent mind, skill with daggers, and those comebacks you gave me during the Zandalari Treasure Heist. You’re who interests me, no one else.” Flynn’s hands moved to his lower back, kneading the muscles there. “Even your overly tight muscles, and all this pale, freckled skin. I’m interested in you, Mathias.”

His ears burned, and he knew his face was just as hot. Lacking a usually smart comeback, he just snuggled his face down, hiding in Flynn’s neck.

“Mathias, look, if the feeling isn’t mutual, I need to know. Tell me what’s okay here. I won’t touch you without your say-so. Or, if all you’re looking for is a one-time deal, I’m fine with that too. Really.”

“Maybeiwantmore,” he mumbled into Flynn’s neck.

“What?”

Mathias pulled away, looking back into the other man’s gorgeous eyes. “Maybe I want more,” he said, speaking clearly. “I confess, _Captain_ , that you’ve caught my eye. I never gave much thought to it until we spent this time together, but I think I’ve been denying how I feel for some time.”

Was that hope he saw in Flynn’s eyes?

He took a deep breath, and pulled his hand free of Flynn’s hair. He traced the other man’s cheekbones with it, running fingers along the bridge of his nose, down to the tip, across the full lips. Flynn’s skin was softer than it looked, the stubble lighting up his fingertips. All the while, Flynn lay still in bed, letting him explore, demanding nothing.

Leaning down, he brushed his lips across Flynn’s in a feather-light touch. The gasp that resulted emboldened him, and he moved in again, lips pressing briefly to the other man’s. Flynn’s hands came up around his shoulders, holding him close, and then he was being kissed within an inch of his life. Heated and frantic and setting his nerves ablaze with sensation, the kiss was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. When their mustaches brushed, he shivered, and when Flynn’s tongue ran along his lips, he parted them, giving the man access.

For all the momentum of the kiss, it was still gentle, and Flynn didn’t push too hard. A meeting of tongues, enough to coax a groan out of Mathias, was all that happened before Flynn was pulling back, kissing him gently on the tip of his nose.

“I don’t want to move too fast,” He said, breathless, as he took a turn tracing Mathias’s face. Mathias leaned into the touch, eyes closed. “I don’t know what you want, mate, and I’d hate to overstep.”

“Whatever you’ll give.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain processed them.

Flynn smiled, a delicious grin. “Oh, I think you’d be surprised at what I’d be willing to give. Or get.”

A thrill raced through Mathias, and his mind skipped to several possible outcomes. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Like that idea, do you?” The grin widened, and Mathias knew he was grinning back, like a fool.

“Perhaps,” he hedged, coming down for another kiss. This time Flynn yielded to him, opening his mouth and drawing Shaw into it for a deep kiss. They groaned in unison as Mathias clung to the bigger man, and Flynn’s hands slid down his sides, gripping his hips. Dimly, Mathias realized he was already hard.

“Want you,” Flynn moaned as they broke apart. “Please, Mathias.”

“Yes,” he murmured, threading his hands through Flynn’s hair. This time he gave it a tug, enjoying the way Flynn’s head arched back, his eyes closed, and he let out a deep groan. “Like that?”

“More.” He wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a demand, but he complied, tugging again. Flynn bucked, and Mathias moved, straddling him to stay in place. As he did, their erections rubbed together, causing him to groan.

“Oh yes, Mathias.” Flynn’s hands were on his hips, yanking tat the shirt there. Mathias let go of that mane of auburn hair long enough for the garment to come free, then buried his hands in it again, leaning forward to kiss Flynn again. He relished the scrape of facial hair on his skin, of the scent of Flynn filling his nose, and the firm body beneath him.

He jumped when Flynn moved his head, nibbling on the side of his neck. “Not good?” the other man asked, looking up at him.

“Different,” he confessed. “Never had that happen before.”

“Let me show you more then,” Flynn said, moving back to Mathias’s neck. He nipped and sucked, tracing his lips along the sensitive skin, bringing about shivers and pleasure. Mathias caught himself panting as his nerves sang. Flynn moved to the spot between his neck and shoulder, and bit. Mathias moaned, leaning into it.

“I thought you’d like that,” Flynn said, sounding proud.

“That’s really good,” Mathias admitted. “Never bothered much with the before, to be honest. Now I see why people enjoy it.”

Flynn rolled him on to his back, covering him with his larger frame. “Good thing it’s early then, I can show you all kinds of ‘before’ for you to enjoy.” He ran his hands lightly across Mathias’s skin, tracing patterns in his coppery chest hair, caressing his nipples. When he bent down and took one sensitive nub in his mouth, Mathias arched up and cried out, hands fisting in the covers.

“Like that, do you?”

“Do that again,” he begged, and Flynn obliged with the other nipple. Mathias closed his eyes, drifting on a cloud of bliss. He was panting, and aching, and badly wanted more.

No wonder people enjoyed sex. For him, it had always been a biological itch to scratch. A need to be taken care of quickly and efficiently, not something to draw out and enjoy. And he had been missing out.

Flynn’s hands drifted lower, tracing the darker hair of his abdomen, just brushing the head of his cock. “Do you want me to stop?” Flynn asked after another heated kiss.

“Not at all.”

The smile that lit the other man’s face would have lit up Proudmoore Keep, it was that brilliant. Mathias had never been the recipient of it before, and desperately hoped he would be again. “Good, because I really don’t want to stop, I’m enjoying this too much,” Flynn said. He moved to one side and slipped off his smallclothes, leaving himself as bare as Mathias.

Flynn’s cock was large and hard, and hot as it pressed into Mathias’s leg. Flynn himself was partially draped over him, one arm under him, keeping him close, the other moving across his body. Flynn’s fingers brushed the head of his cock again, making it twitch, and grasped it firmly. Mathias bit back a loud groan, mindful they were on a small ship.

Skillfully, Flynn moved his hand, his thumb moving over the slit, gathering up the moisture there. He let go, and Mathias almost groaned in disappointment, but then he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked. Mathias nearly came from watching.

“You’re terrible,” he breathed.

“And you’re loving it,” Flynn shot back. He wrapped his hand around Mathias again, working his cock skillfully. All Mathias could do was grip Flynn’s shoulder and the bedclothes and gasp as waves of bliss rolled over him.

“Flynn, careful,” he warned. “It’s been a long time.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. You can’t finish this soon.”

“I will if you keep that up.”

Flynn’s wicked, sensuous grin was back. “If you want to take me, you won’t.”

That almost did him in. Instead, he hardened his resolve. “Evil. You’re evil.”

“I was a pirate, goes with the title.” He let go of Mathias’s cock, and cupped his balls, rolling them in his hand gently, stroking the skin behind them. Mathias’s eyes rolled back.

“How do I please you?” He tried to get the situation back under control.

“Enjoy yourself now, and fuck me in a bit.”

He groaned softly, closing his eyes, hearing Flynn chuckle. He couldn’t help his hips from moving, seeking the other man’s skilled touch, and he was rewarded with new and different sensations, all pleasurable. How was he going to last if Flynn kept it up?

And he nearly didn’t when Flynn’s hot, wicked mouth encircled the head of his cock. “Flynn!” he cried out, heedless of the others onboard. “Oh Light, you’re going to be the death of me, I swear,” he continued, much quieter.

He could see a smile on the edges of Flynn’s mouth, as full as it was, as the other man worked his length. He flopped his head back and let himself be overwhelmed by bliss. Never had it felt like this, so good, _so right_.

His chest was heaving and he felt like he’d run several miles with angry locals chasing him the entire way, but he couldn’t get himself under control. He reached down, carding his hands in that magnificent mane, fisting his hands in, and received a moan for his work. Encouraged, he couldn’t stop the thrust he gave into the other man’s mouth, eliciting another moan. He was getting close.

Flynn came off his cock with a pop, lips red and shiny, the grin still firmly in place. “Oh no, _Master Shaw_ , can’t have you losing control. The fun bit’s still to come.”

“This isn’t fun?” He arched an eyebrow.

Flynn laughed, joyous and carefree. “Of course this is. But the _really_ fun part hasn’t happened.” He moved up the bed, reaching into a small drawer on the bedside table, and pulling out a jar. “We’ll need this.”

Even as limited as his experience was, Mathias recognized it for what it was, and un-stoppered it. He dipped a finger in, examining the thick lubricant briefly. “You are prepared.”

“I get lonely,” Flynn said with a shrug.

Mathias gave him an arched brow.

“I wish I were joking, Mathias. There’s been no one to warm my bed, well, since you came to Boralus. I guess I was holding out hope from the beginning.”

Mathias tried to ignore the twinge in his chest. He attempted a glib remark. “Well, it’s time to remedy that now, isn’t it?

“I hope so.” Flynn laid out on the bed. “Shall I prepare, or do you want to?”

“Let me. You’ve been touching me, it’s only fair I get to return the favor.” Mathias leaned over him for a kiss, then moved down his neck, trying to do what had been done to him. He kissed down the other man’s chest, flicking a tongue over a nipple and earning himself a “Tidemother’s Tits, Mathias!” in the process.

He gained confidence as he traveled lower, Flynn’s boisterous noises urging him on. Small gasps and moans accompanied everything he tried, telling him that if he didn’t have the skills the other man had, he was making up for it in enthusiasm. When he reached Flynn’s cock, he licked the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum that was dripping on to the other man’s stomach.

“Careful, or I’ll be done before you get started,” Flynn warned, and groaned as Mathias took him in his mouth. “Tides, that’s good.”

Mathias reluctantly let him go, and pushed against one leg, glad Flynn moved obligingly, giving him access. He slicked up his fingers, and moving gently, slid between Flynn’s legs, finding where he needed to go. Hesitantly, he pressed, Flynn’s entrance yielding and the tip of his finger slipped in.

“Mmmm,” Flynn moaned. Mathias glanced up, seeing Flynn sprawled on the bed, his hair haloed about him, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. The early morning light coming in from the windows cast him in a bit of a glow, lighting his sun-kissed skin. Mathias stopped, momentarily stunned.

“Don’t stop, you’re not getting off this easy, mate. If you don’t fuck me, I’ll be most upset.” A slow smile crossed the other man’s face, and Mathias remembered what he was doing. He moved his hand, sliding his finger in further, Flynn tightening and then relaxing a bit around him. “That’s it, that’s good. Don’t worry about hurting me, I can take more.”

Mathias worked Flynn, using a second finger when he seemed relaxed enough, and shivered at the groan that resulted. Flynn spread his legs wide, inviting Mathias to touch more, to open him further, and he did, adding a third finger. He slid them in deep, finding that place inside Flynn that made him gasp and shake, and beg for more.

“Enough, Mathias. I want you, your cock, not your fingers,” Flynn demanded, after Mathias had managed to tease him for several minutes on end. “I’m going to come without you fucking me, and that’s what I really want.”

Mathias slicked himself up and knelt between Flynn’s legs. He froze for a moment, realization hitting him. _I’m in Flynn Fairwind’s cabin on the Middenwake, and he’s begging me to fuck him._ It seemed surreal, something from a daydream someone else would have.

A hand touched his thigh. “Mathias, you in there, mate?”

He shook his head, coming back to reality. “I’m here. Just needed a moment.”

“Well, moment’s over.” Flynn flashed him an encouraging grin.

Mathias positioned himself, the head of his cock breaching Flynn. The other man groaned as he slid in slowly, not stopping until he was buried fully. “Oh, Mathias, yes.”

Mathias waited a moment, almost overwhelmed. Tight and hot, and indescribably good, Flynn was everything he could have wanted for an encounter. Handsome and wanting him for him made his desire stronger. He yearned to just pound into the man, to forget himself in the moment, but it wouldn’t be fair to Flynn.

He pulled out, then began to thrust shallowly. He gripped Flynn’s hips, pulling him into a slightly better position, and thrust a little deeper, watching the other man’s eyes roll back.

“Good?” he asked, voice breathy. He set a rhythm, thrusting just deep enough to make Flynn gasp and moan, but not so deep as to make himself come immediately.

“Oh Mathias,” Flynn gasped, reaching out to grab his arms. “So good, so so good. More, don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan on it.” And he didn’t. He might be drowning in pleasure, but his control wasn’t completely shot. He continued thrusting, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, reveling in the sensation. Being buried in Flynn felt right. It felt like home.

Flynn’s legs came around his waist, anchoring him in place as he moved. He lifted one hand off the other man’s hip, and drew it inwards, to Flynn’s neglected cock. Taking it in a loose fist, he pumped it leisurely, at odds with the steady thrusting.

“Oh Mathias, I won’t last if you keep that up.”

“Don’t you want to come?” His voice was low, the words like gravel.

“Yes, but you first. I want you to come in me.”

Mathias’s pace stuttered at the mental picture that conjured, and he let out a low moan. He thrust deep into Flynn, coaxing a whimper from the other man.

“Like that idea, don’t you Mathias? Coming deep in me?”

“Flynn,” he cautioned, trying to recover.

“Fuck me like you mean it,” Flynn taunted. Mathias looked down at him, meeting sea-blue eyes, the pupils wide and dilated. “I want to feel it when I move today.”

That was all it took. Mathias let go of Flynn’s cock and gripped his hips again, driving into him. Flynn let out a cry of pleasure, biting on his lower lip, Mathias moved erratically, the need to climax winning over drawing out the act. He thrust deep, Flynn tightening around him, his balls slapping against the other man’s skin. The scent of sex was heavy on the air, along with soap and salt, and the light from the windows set Flynn’s hair ablaze in a halo.

With a shout, he came hard, hips jerking. He spilled into Flynn, hot and wet, and heard Flynn’s satisfied gasp as he did. As his climax wound down, he reached for Flynn’s cock and worked it. It only took a few strokes before Flynn came with another gasp, hand gripping Mathias’s other arm.

The two men panted, unwilling or unable to move for long moments. Mathias finally shifted, slipping himself out of Flynn, and collapsed beside him, boneless. Flynn reached down and twined their fingers together, but didn’t otherwise move.

“Wow,” Flynn said, turning his head to meet Mathias’s eyes. His eyes were still half-lidded in pleasure, and he wore a sated expression.

“Yeah,” Mathias said, other words escaping him.

“Can we do that again sometime soon?” Flynn turned on his side, opening up his arms. Mathias moved and slid into the embrace, settling his cheek on his companion’s shoulder. Not even the mess on Flynn stopped him from cuddling close.

“I’d like that.”

Flynn kissed the top of his head, holding him close. Mathias snuggled in, tracing a swallow on Flynn’s chest. Mathias idly wondered how Flynn was going to fit in his life, but figured they’d work it out. At the moment, he was content to bask in the afterglow of fantastic sex, with no talking needed.

So of course, at that moment, Flynn began stroking his hair, and asked, “Hey, would you let me brush your hair sometime?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulpera!Shaw lives on, rent free, in my brain, even though this is done.
> 
> I'm on Twitter as [IrielKayani](https://twitter.com/IrielKayani) although I'm not super active.
> 
> Next Fic is an epic length (I'm guessing) based on the outline length) Fairshawduin where Fairshaw rescues Anduin, with Wrathion's help. Wish me luck!


	7. Chapter 7

And the story wouldn't be complete without this wonderful art by the super talented [@kamidog](https://twitter.com/kamidog), who was the one to suggest that an Orb of Deception might work. The idea sort of spiraled from the Fursona and that comment into the story you've just read.


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